


Fire on the Mountain (Run, boy, run)

by cryptonym



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Dirty Talk, First Time, Glove Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptonym/pseuds/cryptonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie is just trying to get on with life post-war with his beloved dragons and forget. Draco just wants to get out of England and somehow manages to wangle his way into a placement on the reserve. Charlie doesn't expect him to last a week, but his dedication, perseverance, and obvious love of dragons are impressive, and it doesn't hurt that he has a damn fine arse. Charlie's just not sure he can trust Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire on the Mountain (Run, boy, run)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [hprarefest](hprarefest.livejournal.com)
> 
> Dear [](http://gracerene.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://gracerene.dreamwidth.org/)**gracerene** , I have long wanted to do a story about these two and this gave me the incentive to finally write it down. That said, it gave me far more trouble than I expected, it took a life of its own and I can only hope this works for you. I also hope I haven’t hit any of your squicks. I have read a lot of the stuff you’ve enjoyed and can’t see that I’m going to push your boundaries with this, but if I have inadvertently then I apologise in advance. To the Mods who put up with me being my usual late and annoying self, a million thanks. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the marvellous M who kicked my butt frequently and comprehensively, dealing with all my meltdowns and my pursuit of the art of epic procrastination.

  


Charlie leans back in his chair, crossing his foot over his thigh, and sighs. His boss is making no sense at all.

“Look, I understand why he wants to come to Romania, I get that, but what I don’t get is why he needs to come to the reserve. He’s a fucking Death Eater, and I don’t see why we have to give any of them a second chance. It’s not like anyone they killed or tortured until they went insane will. Ron was in the same year as Malfoy at Hogwarts, and he was a wa- he was a bully. He had a Hippogriff sentenced to death because he couldn’t control it. Do we really want someone like that around our dragons?” He folds his arms across his chest, biceps bulging, it’s not a comfortable position for him and it doesn’t work on Loretta.

Loretta rolls her eyes. “Do you really want to condemn him for the rest of his life?”

“With respect, Loretta, you aren’t the one who lost a brother and watched your family fall apart. You’d feel different if you were.”

Loretta does look uncomfortable at that. She sighs. “I’m sorry, Charlie, I don’t have much say in this. The Ministry seems to want him here for whatever reason and Harry Potter has signed his name to a recommendation.”

Charlie’s jaw drops. “Harry sent him here?”

“Not sent, no, but apparently he thinks it’s a good thing.”

Charlie’s mind is whirling with the thought that no-one has bothered to tell him. He hasn’t been in touch with his family for a while... a few months... Six? Seven? He can’t even remember. He tries not to think about missing Christmas. But he couldn’t just leave the late hatchlings to fend for themselves.

Loretta is still talking. “If he’s to work here he needs someone to show him the ropes and you’re the only one available at the moment.”

Charlie pulls a face. “I’m not taking responsibility for him, that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s in your best interests to make sure that he’s alright. The last thing we need is anything to upset the dragons at breeding time.”

Charlie slams his hand down on the desk. “Then why let him anywhere near, if you feel that way?”

“Whether we like it or not, he’s on his way here and he’ll be arriving by portkey shortly. You’ll need to make space for him until we can get him his own quarters.”

Charlie’s eyes widen in shock. “What?! No way. No I’m _not_ having him sharing my fucking home. I need my own space.”

Loretta is giving him that look, the stern one that reminds him of someone’s father, not his, obviously.

“I’m afraid there’s no alternative.”

Charlie clenches his jaw. “Right, I’d better go and clean up then. How long have I got?”

Loretta looks checks the paperwork. “A little over an hour.”

“Fine. But you’d better get his place set up soon. I don’t appreciate being forced to share like this.”

Loretta nods. “I know and we’re doing the best we can, but you know how difficult it is to get the scales for the roof.”

He stops off at his hut making a quick sweep for toys - the last thing he needs is Draco making a fuss about sharing with a poof - and putting in another bed. It’s going to be close quarters and he can’t help feeling irritated.

He remembers all the Malfoy’s trials. Bill had sent him the papers when he’d insisted that he had to get back to the reserve. When he just couldn’t take another minute of it. Mum had been devastated, crying non-stop, Dad holding on to her as if she was going to slip away too, Percy apologising constantly, Ron so angry, Ginny and Bill trying to hold things together, but the worst was George. He was like a shadow without a person to cleave to. It hurt to see him say something and stop in the middle, like he expected Fred to leap in and finish the thought, not because it was half formed but because they shared it.

He couldn’t stay and watch his family implode and so he left. Another way to say it would be that he’d turned tail and run, like a coward. He’d never have considered himself that way before the war, Merlin knows he had his share of dangerous missions to undertake during the war, and dragon handling isn’t exactly the easiest of occupations - but seeing his family torn apart had made him feel weak and useless, unable to do anything.

It’s madness to send Malfoy here. He’s got half a mind to write to Harry and ask what the fuck he’s playing at, but he’s not big on writing and he’d probably have to make a trip into town to get the writing implements. Frankly, he cannot be arsed.

He goes to the arrival point outside the village to meet Draco, any noise dampened by a charm so as not to disturb any wandering dragons. He makes a pretty smooth landing, considering the disorientation he must be feeling having been shunted around Europe.

Charlie steps up to him. “Alright?” he says, not sure what else to say. “I’m Charlie. Weasley.”

Draco gives him a haughty look, but he’s polite enough. “Yes, I was told you would be meeting me,” he says and he holds out his hand for Charlie, who is momentarily taken aback by such a formal gesture, but takes it anyway.

“Alright, well, good to meet you. We’d better get on if we want to make it back in time for tea.”

Draco falls into step beside him and Charlie is pleasantly surprised by how surefooted he is across the rocky terrain. He’s not exactly talkative and Charlie’s never been accused of being a blabber mouth, so it’s a quiet walk back to the village and he observes Draco in his peripheral vision.

Draco is dressed in travel clothes, but they look good on him. Charlie always ends up looking like the portkey has dragged him through a few hedges sideways, Draco looks like he’s been through a salon, not a hair out of place. He looks maddeningly good in his robes with breeches and shirt underneath. He’s slender, built for speed and agility rather than brute strength. No point in him being part of the holding team. But maybe he’ll be good enough on a broom to make up for it.

He can tell that Draco is underwhelmed by the village from the expression on his face.

“They’re made of mud, the roofs are tiled with dragon scales, humanely farmed. Unfortunately that means you’re sharing with me until we can finish off your hut.”

“What?” Draco looks and sounds as horrified as Charlie was earlier. “I can’t share with _you_.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea either, but there we are, and here we are. This is us.” Charlie holds open the door.

Draco squeezes past Charlie into the small, round room, sparsely furnished with two beds, a desk and a sofa. He takes his trunk out of his pocket, unshrinking it with his wand and placing it beside his bed.

“I’m sorry it’s a bit basic,” Charlie says.

Draco’s shoulders slump. “It’s fine. I’ve had a lot worse.”

It’s not like there’s much to show him in the room. Everyone tends to use their quarters for sleeping and shagging rather than hanging out in. There’s a communal hut where everyone gathers at mealtimes and then often stay on into the night to play cards and drink. It’s bawdy. They’re all bawdy and Charlie has no idea how this aloof young man is going to fit in with the rest of them. And that _is_ his problem as his mentor, he suppresses a groan.

Well, there’s nothing for it but to see how bad it could be.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

Draco shrugs. “Not particularly.” Unfortunately his stomach takes that moment to growl loudly. He looks so disgusted that it’s almost funny, fortunately Charlie mastered the art of not laughing in Percy’s face years ago and acts like there’s nothing amiss.

“Well, I’m starving, so I’ll show you and you can choose whether you stay or not. The food, like the accommodation, is basic but does its job, which is to say it fills a hole and keeps you going.”

Draco follows him to the main hut where there are already several of his colleagues sitting round the large table at the centre of the room, laughing and talking loudly. A lot of them smoke, but alcohol is only allowed off reserve. It’s all obvious stuff, but Charlie makes a note to go over the unbreakable rules, such as they are. He’s never settled anyone in before. It’s usually the domain of the elders - the men and women who have been here the longest. No-one lasts into their sixties, if they haven’t retired or been killed in the line of duty, they get kicked off the reserve. Put out to pasture, moved on to some far less dangerous occupation. Charlie can’t imagine ever leaving. He’s going to go down in flames when the time comes.

Draco is looking around him with obvious disdain in his expression. Charlie wants to shake the bloke and ask him what the fuck he’s doing here if he’s that put off, but he restrains himself.

He shows Draco the stewpot, the ladle hanging on the hook. “Take a bowl, fill it, grab your cutlery, bread’s there, salt, pepper.” He indicates the little side table with everything else on. “If you want sweet stuff you have to stock up in the town. No alcohol on the reserve - apart from anything else it’s highly flammable.”

Draco’s frown is getting more exaggerated with every moment that passes. He looks round the room and then announces. “I’m not hungry,” leaving Charlie standing there with a bowl in one hand, bread in the other, irritation niggling at him. He shrugs it off and goes to join the others.

“Who was that with the face like a slapped arse?” Lars, Charlie’s sometimes lover, asks.

“Draco Malfoy. Apparently he _wants_ to be here. Mate of my brother’s sent a recommendation for him, but I dunno, want to start a book on how long he’s going to last? I’ll take three days. Stubborn enough to give it a go, but that spine won’t make it past Thursday.”

Lars grins. “I’ll take that. I say you’re selling him short, he’ll make it to the weekend.”

“Anyone else want to get in on this?”

Everyone does, as it turns out, even Loretta who gives him a couple of weeks and gives them a sly smile.

“Hey, no insider knowledge, if you know something, like binding contracts or whatever, it’s null and void.”

Loretta gives them an innocent smile. “As if I’d do that.”

The night rolls on, Charlie stays until the small hours, not anxious to rush back, but eventually he has to if he wants to be up at five. Amazing how many horny dragons find the crack of dawn the most enticing part of the day.

He sneaks in as quietly as he can, which is pretty quiet. He falls on top of the covers. It’s too dark to see and if Draco’s there then he’s one of those people who sleeps like the dead. He has a moment’s worry that Draco might not have got back safely. He squashes it in a moment. Draco is a full grown man - if he’d got lost he could have come and found Charlie, the main hut is impossible to miss. There’s no way Draco would have been stupid enough to go out of the village onto the reserve proper, not unless he had a particular death wish and if that’s the case there’s not a lot that Charlie can do about it in the long run.

*

It seems like five minutes after he’s fallen asleep he is waking up again, his heart thudding in his chest, lurching upright in bed.

He has no idea what’s woken him. He casts Lumos and looks around the room. Draco’s bed is empty. Bugger it. Charlie staggers off his own bed and stretches, touching the low ceiling with his fingertips. Draco can probably press on the roof with his palms. Taller; he’s several inches taller than Charlie with his long limbs. Charlie shakes his head to clear it of the currently unimportant issue of how tall Draco is and concentrates on the more important issue right now: where the fuck is he?

Charlie wanders out into the fresh morning air, shivering slightly at the chill and looking around. He’s probably gone to use the latrine. Charlie grabs his washbag and heads over there. Draco isn’t at the row of sinks, nor in the toilet stalls. He rubs his tired eyes and goes through to the communal shower.

Draco is standing at the far end, water cascading over his pale skin, hands held up to the water. Charlie can see the Dark Mark, covering most of the inside of his forearm, clearly and that shocks him. He knew, of course, but it’s like having a bucket of cold water dumped over his head to see the thing.

Charlie can’t stop himself from giving Malfoy an appraising look. He’s very… upright. His posture very correct, shoulders held up and back, it’s a proud posture. There’s enough definition in his arms to show his strength His back is long and smooth, not broad, but he’s certainly no scrawny boy. Charlie’s mouth starts watering when he gets down to the dimples at the base of his spine and the luscious curve of his arse and firm, toned legs that seem to go on and on.

_Fuck!_

And he really has to stop looking.

Luckily Draco seems to be caught up in his own little world while Charlie gets himself under control.

“Morning, Draco,” he says, stripping off his clothes from the night before.

Draco looks over his shoulder. “Weasley,” he says, not bothering to hide the mark.

Charlie goes and stands under the shower next to him. “Call me Charlie. I hope I didn’t wake you when I got in last night, it was a late one.”

Draco shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t answer.

“You found your way back alright, though?”

“I can manage to remember the location of a mud hut in a tiny village, yes, thank you for your concern.” Charlie would dearly love to slap him.

Charlie lathers himself up with soap. Draco blatantly looks at him, his eyes running the length of Charlie’s body, it feels like he’s being dissected. Draco’s gaze lingers on Charlie’s cock and Charlie turns to give him a better view. “Like what you see?” he asks, because a fuck’s a fuck and sharing would be easier on those terms. But Draco’s eyes flick up to Charlie’s face and he looks horrified at the insinuation.

Charlie turns back to the wall, irritated, because that was definitely the look of an interested man, he’s not an idiot and if a Death Eater is offended by the idea of being fucked by a Weasley (or topping him, because he’s an equal opportunity fucker) is too horrifying to contemplate then he can do without it.

He finishes up quickly and pulls on his boxers, wrapping his towel round his shoulders. “I’ll see you at breakfast then, you won’t want to miss it unless you’re intending to off yourself on the reserve and if that’s the case you’d better tell me now so I don’t try and save your sorry arse.” He checks out said arse again.

Draco half turns, catching Charlie’s gaze. “Like what you see?” Draco says, throwing his words back at him.

Charlie realises that he’s blatantly staring. But, well, that arse is round and smooth and the only hair on it is the fine downy sort like peach fuzz. He wants to eat that arse. He wants to bite it and he wants to run his tongue along the crack and finger it and fuck it.

He shrugs lightly and says, “Nice arse,” before turning and leaving the shower room.

He stops off at Lars’ hut on the way back and he’s accommodating enough, even if he can’t quite get his head around why Charlie is there first thing in the morning, and Charlie is vague about his reasons at best.

Draco’s already in the main hut when Charlie arrives, much as it pains him he sits next to the arrogant bastard.

Charlie always has the same thing for breakfast - porridge with a swirl of honey, a banana, half a pint of milk, a strong black coffee, toast and a mound of scrambled eggs with tomato ketchup and lots of salt and pepper. In that order. Draco watches him put it away with that same expression of disdain on his face He is picking at toast and looks at the bovril with something akin to horror before taking Charlie’s jar of honey and helping himself.

“You’re going to need to eat more if you’re going to manage a full day. I’m not joking, it’s hard work and we don’t stop for lunch. You can take stuff with you, but no meat.”

“Fine,” Draco says. He takes a lunch bag from the pile filling it with three pieces of fruit and a cheese sandwich. “I’m ready when you are.”

Charlie belches loudly and receives another of Draco’s looks of utter revulsion.

“Er, sorry,” he says, not really sure why he is apologising. “Better up than down?”

_Oh, smooth,_ he thinks, grabbing his own lunch, shrinking it and squashing it in his pocket.

It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is cresting the mountain and Charlie stretches and breathes in the air. It’s so good. He loves this time of the day. The minute he stops being able to burn the candle both ends he’s going to favour mornings. There’s something about seeing the sun hit the rock, catching on the tiny fragments of ore, making it blaze into fire.

Draco is quiet, as ever, and Charlie lets himself glance across a few times. He’s a strange fish. He’s annoying and aloof, but he isn’t the complete bastard that Charlie was expecting from what he knew of the Malfoys before.

They get to the flight point and take their brooms from the mud hut there. “Keep close, don’t get distracted, if you see anything you think needs us to take a look you tell me, do not go off on your own or if the dragons don’t finish you off, I will. I fly fucking fast, so keep up. Any questions?”

“You have a rather high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“Is that the best you can come up with? I trust my abilities, I know I’m good at my job, if I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here, and I’ve yet to see the proof that you live up to your ego.”

Draco scowls at the sky and mounts his broom. Charlie kicks off and Draco is right there with him, hot on his heels. He’s a good flier, Charlie realises. Not far off Charlie and Charlie wasn’t bragging when he said he was good. But he will always prefer this to pro racing or Quidditch. He couldn’t stand the constant attention, the worry that an injury would put him out of action. At least here, most things short of death are considered flesh wounds and don’t stop work.

Draco is keeping up with him, he has sharp reflexes, following Charlie down the mountain way, avoiding the outcroppings of rock and the taller trees, seeming almost tethered to Charlie’s broom.

It takes about fifteen minutes to fly to the reserve and Draco proves his mettle more than adequately. He’ll be an asset when it comes to hatching time. Charlie sets down and turns to see Draco land, barely ruffled, he sweeps his hair back with one hand and looks around, taking in the plateau they are standing on. There’s not a lot to see other than the openings of caves. It’s always hot up here.

“The Ridgebacks have claimed this nesting site. I’m responsible for these ones. Most of the dragons stick to their own kind, but sometimes we get a mixed couple, I’ll show you all of them, but we should start here. None of them are up here at the moment - they’ll be down lower, hunting and humping. They come up here to nest and to sit out the winter months.”

Draco nods.

Charlie leads him in to the nearest cave, checking for any sign of life before casting a ball of light that hovers just in front of them. “The tunnel goes down inside the mountain. When we have to go down there, flying becomes a survival skill and you’ll be fine, you’ve got the reflexes for it.”

Draco doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, he’s looking down the tunnel as if he wants to go down there, but Charlie touches his shoulder, pulling his attention back to him.

“I’m going to take you down to see the dragons now.”

They walk back out into the sunshine and mount their brooms once more. Further down the mountain there is a forest and Charlie swoops down low, flying between the trunks of tall pines. He can see the telltale signs that they are getting close, not that it’s difficult to track dragons, they don’t exactly cover their tracks. Don’t need to. He slows down and points out the scorched trees, dried earth where nothing can grow and the places where the dragons have scratched deep grooves in the trunks of the trees with their claws.

“They’re comfortable on most terrains, but of course they are more at home in the air, that’s where they’re at their most spectacular in any case,” Charlie says. He proceeds with more caution, not wanting to make a mistake, not with Draco.

He catches a flash of brown and holds his arm out, both of them slow down and Draco looks around for whatever has caught Charlie’s attention.

“See him?” Charlie recognises the male. He arrived on the reserve nearly two years before - a vicious brute.

Draco’s mouth is set in a firm line. “I see him.”

“That’s a new injury just over his right shoulder. He’s been getting too big for his boots. He wants a pack to control - an alpha male if ever I saw one.”

Draco nods. He closes his eyes and Charlie wonders for a moment if he’s scared. But then there is a low sound that issues from his throat. His eyes open, and Charlie is shocked by the wild, fiery look in them.

“Are you alright, Draco?” he asks.

He seems to snap out of it straight away. “I’m fine,” he says, irritated.

Charlie lets it go, there’s no sense in winding Draco up out here on the reserve, if there’s a problem he will find out when they’re safely back at the village.

“Come on then. We need to go and check on the rest of them. There’s a big pack just to the north of here.”

They leave the sole dragon behind.

They fly down to the hunting grounds. “Half of our job is to make sure they don’t get loose and go taking all the sheep. Dragons are natural born hunters, but they will go for the easiest catch if left to their own devices, and that’s when we start getting issues with the locals. Unsurprisingly they don’t like it when the dragons take their livelihood. Even less when they start burning up the place. We haven’t had any major incidents in the last five years. Minor ones, though...”

Charlie doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sight of dragons hunting freely. He and Draco have to keep in the cover of the trees to avoid being seen as lunch, and they have to keep their wits about them. But this is what he lives for: seeing them in the wild, keeping it that way. They’re as free as they can be.

They fly along the perimeter and Charlie is in awe as ever, watching them, their big unwieldy bodies dragging down as they take off. It seems like it should be impossible, but then they stretch their wings and glide and it looks so easy.

“You know the history of the reserve? How it came into being?”

Draco gives him a tight smile. “The Longhorns were nearly hunted to extinction, when people came here and settled in the mountains. Georgios de Anici founded the reserve back in the middle ages. Some say he was a Dragon Sayer, though the Muggles would have it that he was a Slayer. He set up reserves in all the countries that he could where dragons were indigenous. Other breeds have been introduced here in Romania more recently, following the closure of some of the other reserves.”

It sounds like Draco has been brushing up on the history before coming here. It’s good, he thinks, Draco must want to be here if he’s putting the effort in like that. “You’ve done your research.”

“I always wanted to be a handler,” Draco says. “As soon as I knew what my name meant.”

Charlie doesn’t mention what he remembers about Draco from his brother’s letters. “Just because of the name?”

Draco bristles. “When I was a child, yes. But since the war it has been something that I have thought about increasingly.”

Charlie looks at him, resting easily on his broom, arms folded over the handle, without a hint of fear.

“Come on, I want to see how you handle yourself up close and personal.”

There is a flicker of something across Draco’s features, but he can’t be sure what it is, it is there and gone again so quickly. The dragon hospital is at the base of the mountain. There are pens where injured dragons can be held securely without fear of further injury to themselves. The handlers work together in teams, necessarily involving a great level of trust in one another. This is where Draco is most likely to fall down, from what he’s seen of him.

There’s a Welsh Green being held there at the moment and Charlie wastes no time in taking Draco to the pen.

“It’s completely magically enclosed, safer for everyone involved.” There are four shimmering magical posts in between which the magic is stretched thin enough to be almost transparent, but whenever the dragon held within the confines moves too close it flickers with bright flashes of energy.

Draco is looking at the trapped dragon with an expression of reverence. Charlie watches him move closer to the pen. He doesn’t try to stop him, it’s perfectly safe, but he’s intrigued.

Draco is making that low sound in the base of his throat again, deep and resonant and somewhat like the sound that dragons make when they communicate with each other, but his human vocal chords give it a quavering twist. The dragon, who has been restless and angry, stills for a moment, and then slowly lifts her neck. It looks as though the dragon is going to unfurl itself completely, but then she turns, flicking her tail at Draco.

Charlie frowns and goes to join Draco. “I’ve never seen one behave like that around the handlers. Only other dragons.”

Draco’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that even the babes I hand-reared would kill me, like as not. This one’s been blinded in an attack, we’re going to try and heal her as best we can, but I doubt we can save her sight.”

“She’s afraid.”

Charlie nods. “Not surprising, really.”

“Afraid for her children, now she’s not there to protect them,” Draco says, kneeling abruptly, hands pressed to the earth, head hanging low.

“What? How did you know she has kids? Are you alright, Draco?”

Charlie squats next to him, putting a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. He looks like he is going to be sick. Charlie doesn’t wait another moment - he lifts Draco up in his arms and carries him to the medi-station.

Gabriel meets them. “What’s up, Charlie?” he asks, as Charlie sits Draco on one of the beds.

“Nothing much, I don’t think. A dizzy spell maybe. He came over funny outside the green’s pen. I reckon he’s not had enough to eat this morning, just a bit of toast. We haven’t done much, but I flew in hard.”

“Want to leave him here with us?” Gabe asks.

“No, he’s my responsibility, I need to stay with him. He’ll be alright, I reckon. Just check him over.”

“I can speak for myself.” The cold, sharp tone slices through their conversation, severing it.

“Sorry, you were a bit out of it when I brought you in,” Charlie says. He doesn’t know quite why he feels so chastened, but he does. Then he realises that he’s been rubbing Draco’s back, the way his mum used to when he was ill and he pulls away. “You should have something to eat before we go out there again.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but he takes out his packed lunch and eats the banana and a handful of nuts. “There, happy?”

“It’ll do, but we need to get you on a better diet. Like I said, this work is physically challenging.”

“You are not going to tell me what to eat, Weasley,” Draco says, his eyes flashing defiance.

Charlie just gives him a stern look, no point in arguing. He’s almost forgotten the presence of Gabe until he says, “Charlie’s right. You’ll work it off on the reserve.”

Charlie mentally shakes himself. “We’ll take it easy today, but I’m going to show you the rest of the jobs that need doing, if that doesn’t convince you that you need to listen to me then I’m going to have to tell Loretta that you’re not going to work out.”

“I will eat something that doesn’t resemble vomit.” Draco’s eyes are blazing, he practically leaps off the bed and strides out of the medi-station, not even pausing to see if Charlie’s following him.

Charlie exchanges bemused looks with Gabe. “Thanks,” he says and runs after Draco before he can get too far on his own.

The rest of the day goes more smoothly. They stop for lunch and Charlie offers to share some of his, but Draco is infuriatingly stubborn, sticking to his own meagre sandwich.

Charlie fumes silently for a few moments, before putting it aside to deal with the rest of the afternoon. He has no idea how he’s going to keep working with Draco. He’s always thought he was easy going, he doesn’t get riled up at stupid things. He should just let the bloke get on with it and stop worrying. He’s got a feeling that he normally would and it bothers him that he can’t let it go.

The sun is setting by the time they reach the broom hut. Charlie dismounts, puts his broom away and stretches out his arms, arching his back. The unnatural posture of flying a broom for a lot of the day has taken its usual toll and his bones ache. Time for a long, hot soak.

*

The next few days pass uneventfully enough. Charlie shows Draco around and sets him to work; tries to cajole him into eating more with varied success. There is no repeat of what happened at the holding pen and he helps with healing Mildred. She seems to have taken to him and is calmer when he’s around, less likely to lash out or breathe random bursts of flame. Draco’s gifted with speed and intelligence and he seems to have a way with the dragons that Charlie’s never seen before. He was right that Draco’s strength is not in his physique, and he finds he rather enjoys the slightly awed way Draco regards him when he really uses his muscles, which is quite often around the reserve.

The living arrangements on the other hand are not great. It’s not that he wants to get rid of Draco exactly, but it’s really cramping his style. Lars never comes over for sex or just to hang out any more, and he doesn’t like to spend too much time with Lars, leaving Draco to his own devices. Any attempts to befriend him have been met with a brick wall. It’s not that Draco’s outright rude it’s just that he gives off this air of disdain when he’s around other people, as if it’s all beneath him. He doesn’t speak much at all, except when Charlie talks to him about dragons and then he comes alive. It’s almost like he forgets himself, and Charlie likes that.

After a hard day on the reserve he likes to bathe in the hot springs, he knows Draco uses them late at night when no-one else will disturb him. But one evening, after a particularly good day when he’s got that ache that comes from flying and working hard and the peace of mind that all their dragons are safe and happy, and even Draco seems almost relaxed, he says, “I’m going to the hot spring before tea, want to come?”

Draco looks startled. Charlie expects to be turned down, but Draco rolls his shoulders and says. “Yes, that would be good.”

There is a massive cavern housing a large hot spring and a number of smaller ones. The heat comes from the dragons’ nesting caves lower down the mountain, the heat rising through the rock and warming the water in the natural springs. There are also ice cold springs, where they get their drinking water from, across the other side of the village, charms insulating the water from the heat.

At the moment it’s just the two of them, though they could be joined at any time.

Charlie strips off and sinks into one of the smaller springs, groaning with relief as his weight is lifted and supported. He floats there on his back, eyes closed, drifting off.

He feels the ripple of water as Draco joins him, and he opens his eyes, letting his body sink down. He’d assumed Draco would take another pool, not being the most sociable person on the planet. He’s lying back, his head resting against the rock ledge, his eyes closed. The water is up to his chest, just above his nipples. There are a couple of vicious looking old scars that go almost to his shoulder. But his skin looks smooth and Charlie wonders if he charms off his body hair. He tried that once, but it was fucking weird. His body felt wrong, uncomfortably naked.

Charlie leans back next to him. “So, how are you enjoying it?” he asks, cringing inwardly at the inane question. He sounds like he’s talking to a four year old. He sounds like a patronising bastard.

Draco’s lips twist into something that’s not quite a smile. “It’s fine.”

Charlie is struck quite forcibly by the idea of those sardonic lips around his cock. Fuck, and now he’s hard.

Charlie sighs, normally he would have a good wank in the pool, but Draco would probably consider it bad manners or unhygienic or something, even though he’s making things much worse. The frustration makes him short tempered. He washes quickly and hauls himself out of the pool, heedless of his state of arousal and dries himself off on one of the large, fluffy towels supplied.

He can feel Draco’s eyes on him, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. _Fuck!_ Fuck Draco. Fuck he needs a wank. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, heat radiating from him. He has half a mind to jerk himself off right there in front of Draco, irritating bastard. He shoots him a filthy look and stops dead in his tracks. Draco is looking at him alright, his eyes following the movement of his tattoo by the looks of it, unfurled and flying across his body. Draco’s looking and he’s flushed and he’s clearly stroking his cock under the water.

“Give you a hand?” he asks, and fuck if the shutters don’t come down so fast it makes his head spin. Draco goes from openly aroused to cold and wary in five seconds flat. “Fine,” Charlie says, his voice hard and angry. He wraps his towel around his waist, picks up his clothes and leaves as quickly as he can.

He’s so pissed off he’s not even hard any more. So Draco’s a little cock-tease. Fucking fine, he’s not going to fall for it again. Clearly he’s surplus to requirement, Draco just wants to stare at him and get himself off and never fucking mind about Charlie. He slams into their hut and throws his clothes in the corner. He gets dressed and goes to see if Lars is back yet, but his hut is empty. Sighing and trying to tamp down the roiling anger in his belly he heads to the main hut for tea. He’s hungry anyway. Starving. Fuck Draco.

It doesn’t take him long to calm down. Food and a quick game of cards and Lars, sucking him off after dark out by the broom hut.

*

Wednesday is their day off and Charlie has plans to hit the town on Tuesday night and blow off some steam, having stayed around the village the week before with his new ward.

Draco is sitting on his bed, reading, when Charlie gets back from his shower. He throws his towel on his bed and rummages around in his trunk for his best trousers and shirt.

“Are you up for a night out? Those of us who’ve got tomorrow off are going down to the town.”

Draco turns the page and for a moment Charlie thinks he’s not going to answer.

“I suppose so,” he says, after a while, noncommittal.

Charlie sits on his bed, trousers half way up his legs and looks hard at Draco. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s not like any of us would miss having you there. You don’t exactly make the effort to join in.”

He was trying to be fucking _nice_. Making the best of a bad lot, trying to help Draco settle in, and it’s being thrown back in his face.

Draco shuts his book with a snap. “Then why the fuck did you bother asking?” He levels his gaze at Charlie and whoever thinks he has an icy stare is mad, it’s full of fire, blazing hot and Charlie is mesmerised. “I know none of you want me here, but I’m fucked if I’m going to behave like a Neanderthal just to fit in.”

“A what?” Charlie’s brow wrinkles in confusion.

Draco actually throws his hands up in frustration. “A cave man, Weasley. Someone with no basic etiquette. Just because you _can_ behave that way out here with no-one around to see you, doesn’t mean you _should_.”

“Oh and of course it’s much better to act like an arrogant dickhead always looking down your nose at everyone else.”

Draco’s fists clench tight against his thighs. “I’m sure that’s how it must look to you from down there, dragging your knuckles on the ground, not quite fully erect yet.” And then Draco’s eyes dart towards Charlie’s crotch and just as quickly away, glaring at the wall.

Charlie blinks, most of that last comment baffled him, he’s not sure whether Draco was insulting his lack of stature - in which case he’d have to try a lot harder since he’s heard it all from Bill and the the twins and they’re far more inventive. But mostly he’s focused on that last bit, and actually it’s a pretty accurate description. He would be lying if he said that a bit of antagonism and a lot of fire didn’t turn him on. Rather a lot.

He pulls his cock out rubbing it to full hardness. “Better now?” he asks.

Draco’s glare deepens, but the heat in his eyes has intensified. Charlie’s fairly certain that, should he happen to glance down he’d see that Draco was every bit as hard as him. But he holds Draco’s gaze, trusting his instincts on this. “Come here,” he says.

Draco glowers at Charlie, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not coming anywhere near you... I might catch something.”

Charlie takes a deep breath and tries again.

“Draco, come on, come out tonight.”

Draco looks into Charlie’s eyes, untrusting and full of fury, and Charlie is reminded of his charges and he knows he’s just winding Draco up more with his behaviour.

“Come on, if you don’t mind dragons then a bunch of us handlers should be a piece of cake.”

Draco rubs his thumb over the rough, scratchy blanket on his bed. “It’s not that I _dislike_ you,” he says. “I’m not much good at small-talk.”

Charlie grins. “So don’t make small-talk. It’s not like you haven’t got things in common with us, even if we’re all a bit rough and ready and you’re… not.”

Draco laughs, it’s a bit hollow sounding but it’s better than nothing.

“Better. So, are you coming?”

Draco goes to his trunk and pulls out a change of clothes. Charlie does his trousers up and puts his shirt on, leaving the sleeves unbuttoned. When he turns back to Draco to ask if he’s ready he can’t quite find the words. To say he scrubs up well would be an understatement. The man is wearing a tight burgundy coloured shirt, open at the neck, revealing that tempting hollow at the base of his throat just begging to be tasted, and perfectly tailored trousers.

Draco smooths his hands down his legs and Charlie follows the movement. Draco catches Charlie watching and instantly the self-consciousness is back. His eyes flicker across Charlie’s attire.

“Is this too much?” Draco asks.

“Fuck no.”

Draco raises an eyebrow and Charlie wants to undress him and fuck him into the mattress before they go out.

“You look great, stop worrying.”

Draco puts on a well tailored jacket that Charlie instantly dislikes as it obscures the view of his arse.

“You won’t need that,” he says.

“I can take it off, but I need somewhere to put my money.” Draco takes a money clip and places it in his inside pocket.

Charlie licks his lips and his fingers itch to touch, but since he hasn’t been given permission - yet - he’s just going to have to content himself with looking. Draco runs a hand through his hair, so it falls across the side of his forehead and along the side of his face in a way that is just ridiculously sexy. Charlie feels like an oaf next to him, but if he can’t touch then he’s not sure he can stand to see anyone else doing so.

They go to the Apparition point and Charlie grins as Draco holds on to his arm for side-along, as he’s never been to the town before. As soon as they pop into existence on the street Draco lets go and looks around. There’s not much to see. It’s not a particularly picturesque town, but all the basic necessities are available.

“Do you need anything? You can go and stock up now if you want anything and we can get Magne to put it out the back.”

Draco nods. “I’d like to go and get some marmalade,” he says.

Charlie shows him around the town, which is a small wizarding town with a population of a few thousand. The shops are all located in the centre of town, with a main street not that much different to Diagon Alley, except for that all the shops look like small hovels selling local produce all of which Charlie has tried as some time. He gets his supply of strawberry whips from the sweet shop, and no he doesn’t care that he’s nearly thirty, he still loves those things. Draco spends ages selecting his marmalade with a kind of reverence that Charlie finds baffling.

“If I’d known you miss marmalade this much I’d have sent an order down,” he says.

Draco glares at him. “I wasn’t aware we could have deliveries made to the reserve.”

“Well, we don’t get anything delivered unless it’s an emergency. It’s expensive.”

“In future you can leave the decision of whether something is too expensive to me.” Draco gives him a cold look, but Charlie shrugs it off. Draco’s skint, he’s just trying to save face.

“Yeah, but this way it’s free delivery,” he says, grinning.

Draco huffs and tilts his chin up in an unmistakable expression of irritation.

Charlie sighs. “Sorry, alright. Come on let’s get to the pub and I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it.”

Cabină is right at the very heart of town. At ground level it’s all comfy chairs, coffee and a sedate atmosphere, upstairs there is a cocktail lounge and down in the basement there is a club atmosphere. The town’s teenagers head downstairs early on, but Charlie takes Draco up to the cocktail bar first.

“Do you want to try a Wormdo?” he asks.

Draco furrows his brow, looking at the drinks menu. “What’s a Wormdo?”

“Wiggles along the ground like this,” Charlie demonstrates the wiggling with his index finger and bursts out laughing at Draco’s baffled expression. “That’s one of Magne’s he said a bunch of right weirdos came in one night and there was one who kept trying to pick up women with that line.”

“That’s appalling, I’ll have a Fireball.” It’s on the tip of Charlie’s tongue to ask if he’s sure, but Draco still looks irritated by the joke, so he doesn’t.

He orders for them both and watches as Draco blows out the fire and knocks back the shot. His eyes seem to shimmer for a moment. Charlie sips his own drink and contemplates the mysterious man in front of him.

Two hours later, Draco is an exuberant whirling dervish. Apparently he “simply adores” dancing, and Charlie is more than happy to watch him throwing his arms above his head and gyrating to T-Rex. Charlie’s not the only one watching him, not that he’s surprised. There are a group of girls giggling in a corner who keep darting looks at him, a few other women who like the look of him more than their own dates and there’s a man dancing by himself who is definitely moving closer to Draco.

Charlie’s hand curls into a fist, his fingers are digging into his palm. He doesn’t dance. It’s not that he can’t, but he always seems to end up stepping on someone’s foot or knocking into them. Doesn’t mean he has to sit and watch while some bloke picks up Malfoy. He pushes his way onto the dance floor, ignoring the angry protests as he elbows people out of the way. He puts a hand on Draco’s shoulder, drawing his attention.

There is a fleeting moment of alarm on Draco’s face, but it’s there and gone so quickly, Charlie thinks he imagined it. Then Draco is smiling, shouting above the music “I love Marc Bolan.”

Charlie laughs and says “I thought you’d be more, you know, classical? Opera.”

Draco pulls a face. “I can’t stand it. Father used to make me go all the time. He had a box.” He spits out the word. “I love this.”

The bloke who was eyeing him up earlier is looking a bit less certain of himself now, Charlie’s pleased to note, but he’s still giving Draco the occasional hopeful glance. Charlie can’t blame him for that, really, but he whirls Draco around holding his hips and dancing with him, giving the man a look to make sure he gets the point. He does, vanishing back into the crowd.

Charlie removes his hands and leans in close to Draco, so he doesn’t have to shout. “Sorry about that, some bloke was eyeing you up.”

Draco shoots him a cool gaze. “And you thought you’d scare him off for me? Big bad Charlie Weasley defending the honour of a Malfoy.”

Charlie’s not sure what is going on, he can’t keep up with the dizzying mood changes.

“I just thought it would be quicker th-”

Draco’s hand sliding up his side stops him.

“Do you think I don’t know how much you want me?” Draco says, levelling him with a fiery look.

“I’m not trying to hide it,” Charlie says at last. “But you’ve made it quite clear that you’re not interested.”

Draco tilts his head to the side. He’s really drunk still, Charlie realises. “Am I not?”

Charlie frowns. “As far as I’m aware. Are you telling me I’m wrong?”

Draco just laughs and starts dancing again.

Charlie has no idea what to make of him. He goes over to the bar, determined to leave Draco to deal with any more unwanted advances himself, and if Charlie feels a tinge of the green eyed monster at the thought, that’s his problem not Draco’s.

“Hey, Weasley, your bedfellow is quite a mover.”

Charlie rolls his eyes as his shoulder is nudged - and by nudged he means thumped into with all the force of a wrecking ball - by Lars.

“Yeah, he’s not bad.”

Lars watches him, greedy eyes taking in Draco’s lithe form, and now his shirt has come untucked, flashing glimpses of his flat stomach. Charlie leans back, elbows resting against the bar and watches him appreciatively.

“You sleeping with him?”

Charlie shakes his head. “Nope.”

“He’s fair game, then?” Lars asks.

Charlie is fuming, silently. He shrugs. “I don’t have any hold over him if that’s what you mean.”

“But you want him? Ah, this is what it has been about? You want him and he’s playing at being a mouse.”

Charlie takes a long drink of beer before answering. “You could say.”

Lars claps him on the shoulder, almost causing a minor earthquake. “Then I shall leave him for you to catch.”

“I don’t think he’s interested.”

Lars raises his eyebrows. “He’s not?”

“I get the signs but every time I ask he gives me the brush off.” Charlie gives him a rueful smile.

“Ah, no taste,” Lars says and Charlie appreciates it, he does, but he feels pathetic. He’s back at third year in Hogwarts realising once and for all that he’s gay and he has the worst luck in the world to be falling for a friend who is definitely not interested. Of course it’s not that painful - he’s no longer so far in the closet that he can’t see daylight. He and Lars have a mutually beneficial arrangement. It’s really not that bad. It’s just that he _wants_ Draco. He turns back to the bar. It’s not going to happen, he should just get used to that fact.

Five minutes later he forgets his resolve as a very sweaty Draco is leaning across him, arm draped across his shoulder, begging for water. Charlie angles his body towards Draco and, Merlin, he can smell the close heat of him the scent of fresh sweat and spice rising with the heat. Charlie’s cock is hard as a rock, just from being in close proximity to the man.

“I’m heading back soon,” he says, staring at Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps down a bottle of water, trickles running down the side of his mouth and his chin.

Charlie swipes his thumb along Draco’s jaw with an expression of amusement. Draco slams the bottle down, he locks his gaze on Charlie for a moment and lunges at him. Charlie has no chance to prepare himself against a painful clash of lips and teeth. Charlie cradles Draco’s head in his hands and tries to go with it, but it’s not easy kissing a wild thing.

Charlie pulls back. “You okay?” he asks.

Draco sways. “I’m very drunk,” he says.

Charlie nods. “Why don’t you come back with me?”

“Yes,” Draco says, looking smug. He goes and retrieves his jacket having a little difficulty sliding his arms back in the sleeves. In the end Charlie holds it for him whilst he does one then the other. He sticks close to Charlie’s side as they walk back to the Apparition point. Charlie decides there’s nothing for it but to use side-along again, he puts his arm around Draco and just as he focuses on his destination Draco leans in and kisses him deeply, sliding his tongue into Charlie’s mouth.

It breaks his concentration. He tries to stop, but it’s too late, they’re already going.

*

They arrive with a loud pop, but something feels wrong, the echo of Apparition reverberating around them. Charlie casts Lumos and looks around. Nope, it’s definitely not the reserve Apparition point.  
They seem to be in a dark tunnel of some sort. He definitely wasn’t thinking about this as they left.

“Draco,” he whispers. “You’ve got to keep close. I don’t know where we are.”

Draco’s hand slides down his arm before taking hold of his hand. If they weren’t in a dark tunnel this would be a bit weird, he’s not really the hand holding type and he doesn’t think that Draco is.

There are two possible ways he could go, he adds a directional charm to his wand-work. The tunnel in front of him goes up, behind slopes down - using the general rule on the reserve that up equals out, he starts forward. He’s still trying to work out how they ended up here, exactly, when he hears the unmistakable sound of a dragon.

The noise fills the tunnel, they can’t be far from it and Charlie would be willing to bet that they’re going to have to pass it to get out of this place. He stops in his tracks, wand raised.

“Draco, we’ve somehow managed to end up in a tunnel with a dragon. I guess we’re on the reserve. It’s not supposed to be possible to Apparate or Disapparate around here, so I have no idea how it happened. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to try and get out.”

Draco has tensed up. Charlie can’t say he blames him for being scared. He’s good, but he’s new and this dragon sounds like it’s in pain.

“It’s my fault,” Draco says and he doesn’t sound drunk at all anymore.

Charlie squeezes his hand. “It’s okay, it was my job to concentrate and I lost it.”

For a moment Draco looks like he’s going to say something else, but then the sound of a dragon in pain comes to them. It’s not the roar of an angry dragon, but it’s still loud in the enclosed space. Draco casts a shield around them, reducing the noise of the dragon to a bearable level, silencing their steps and hiding them from view.

“Thanks,” Charlie says. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“It’s an adaptation of a couple of different charms into one.”

Charlie frowns. “Cool.”

“My godfather taught me how to do it.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows. “Who was your godfather, Merlin?” he jokes.

“Severus Snape.”

Charlie starts to swear and turns it into a cough. “Snape was your godfather, really?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I know he wasn’t the most popular of professors.” Charlie can’t help a snort of derision at that, but Draco fixes him with a hard look and carries on. “He was good to me and I would have… I owe my life to him.”

Charlie feels himself redden and looks down at his feet.

“He was impatient and he didn’t suffer fools at all, but he did everything he could to keep me safe, even when my father saw fit to hand me over to Voldemort.”

Charlie flinches and Draco glares at him.

“You think his name can hurt you? His name can’t hurt you, any more than mine can.”

“But I don’t have to like it. Any more than you like Weasleys.”

Draco sighs.

“It’s true isn’t it?”

He knows he’s said the wrong thing, the weight of it hangs in the air between them, but he can’t comprehend it. Draco is a Death Eater, running away, seeking exile. Unlucky for him that he ran straight into a Weasley.

“Sorry,” he says, unsure quite why he’s apologising.

The dragon roars again, drawing both their attention.

“Let’s get out of here,” Charlie says, grateful for the interruption. He casts a Disillusionment charm, not that it’ll be much help with a dragon who can scent them and hear them far more easily than see them. Draco’s shield will help with the sound and he wishes he had his vial of essence of dragon dung with him, but it’s in his work clothes.

“Let me go first,” Draco says. His voice wavers a tiny bit, but otherwise he has that determined look that Charlie has learnt to recognise. The one that says he’s scared but he will follow this path he’s chosen to the death, if necessary.

“Okay, but if you try anything stupid I am going to kill you, if the dragon doesn’t do it first.”

Draco’s lips quirk up in a tight smile. Charlie lets him take the lead, but sticks close to his heels. The tunnel widens out the closer they get to the dragon, until finally they come to a small cavern.

Draco stops and Charlie has to peer around his shoulder to see and his heart nearly stops. It’s a Silver Wing. It’s lying curled up, one wing tightly furled, the other hanging down, loose and tattered. He runs his eyes along the length of it, taking in missing scales, crusted blood in several places. It’s missing a claw on its front right paw. It raises its head and roars again.

“He’s dying,” Draco says, a note of panic in his voice. He starts towards the dragon and Charlie reaches out and grabs his arm just in time.

“Stop, you can’t do anything now. We have to get out of here and get help.” There’s no way that just the two of them in the confined space of a cave can treat an injured dragon. It’s far too risky and goes against reserve policy.

“But he’s _dying_ ,” Draco says, and he sounds agonised.

“Then we’d better fucking hurry up, hadn’t we? Come on, Draco, let’s go. Find the way out, do it now.”

Draco turns a sharp gaze on Charlie and then he is scanning the walls of the cave for the exit. “There,” he says, pointing out a darker patch of wall, half hidden behind the dragon.

“Okay, lead the way, Draco. Do it.”

It works - he’s focused again, pressed tight to the wall. He doesn’t look at the dragon again. They have to step over the very tip of the dragon’s tail and Charlie has to wait as it flicks up and down. He pushes Draco through into another tunnel, this one far wider than the one they had Apparated into. It takes another fifteen minutes of walking uphill to get out. Charlie breathes a sigh of relief and slumps against the rock beside the entrance to the cave.

Apparently there is no rest for the wicked, though. Draco is tugging at his arm, insisting, “Come on, we have to get help, now.”

Charlie grabs hold of Draco, pulling him in against his side and sends his Patronus for help.

“Your Patronus is a Ridgeback,” Draco says after a few moments.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, grinning and rubbing a hand across his hair. “Quicker than us trying to find our way back, I don’t recognise this place, so we must have Apparated somewhere completely off the reserve.” He ducks his head, humiliated. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know how I brought us here.”

“It was me,” Draco says, so softly that Charlie thinks he might have misheard him. “I brought us here. Not on purpose.”

Charlie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I have been here before. We’re not on the reserve.”

Charlie can’t hide how baffled he feels. He slides down to sit on the warm ground. “Okay, how do you know about this place then?”

Draco doesn’t answer. He looks tense, anxious, like he’s listening, waiting for something. For help to arrive? For another dragon? Charlie has no idea.

“Fine, you can tell Loretta later.”

He looks at Charlie then and the fear is clear on his face. He looks like he might be about to have a panic attack. “You don’t understand,” he says, sounding on the verge of tears or a tantrum or something.

“Calm down, Draco. Calm down and sit down and explain to me why you’re going off your head, how you know about this place, why you didn’t tell anyone that you knew the location of an injured Silver Wing, what the-”

“I couldn’t tell you, alright? I couldn’t.”

Charlie rubs his forehead, pushing his hair back with his fingers and trying not to feel the sting. “Alright, maybe not me, but Loretta, you’ve got a responsibility, you signed a contract.”

“For the reserve. I signed a contract for what happens on the reserve.”

Charlie shakes his head. “You know what, Draco, you can fuck off, you stupid wanker. There is a dragon in there, it may be the only Silver Wing in existence, up until tonight I thought they were extinct, that’s how fucking rare they are, and you have kept it-”

“I _had_ to, Weasley, don’t you understand?” And suddenly Charlie does.

“Are you telling me there’s a Fidelius on the cave?” Charlie explodes. He has a hundred questions and not one will come out of his mouth. There are so many clamouring for attention, giving him a headache. “Why?” he manages at last. Draco looks away and Charlie takes a deep breath. “Is help going to be able to find us?”

Draco shakes his head.

“So we have to go and find them.” Charlie’s dragon takes that moment to return alone. They can’t be that far from the reserve then.

Charlie gets to his feet and heads in the direction his Patronus came from, he can hear Draco following behind him, stumbling slightly, _still drunk_ he thinks. It seems like a million years ago since they were in the bar, Draco’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He really needs to stop fixating on things like that. And on Malfoy’s arse which is in front of him now, the length of his strides pulling his trousers taut against it in a very pleasing way.

Charlie is very aware that he’s leering, but it’s better than allowing all the other things that Draco makes him feel to push forward - angry, off kilter, wrong footed, irritable. Hopeless and pathetic.

Draco gives a shout and starts waving. Charlie looks up to see Loretta, Gabe and Nala. Loretta sends a Patronus for the two other search parties that are looking for them, since Charlie’s dragon vanished before it could lead them to Draco and Charlie.

“What’s going on?” Loretta asks. “She looks well and truly pissed off, hands on hips. Why are you all the way over here? You look fine. I was expecting one or both of you to be injured and what was that about a dragon? We’re not missing any.”

Draco looks like he’s going to be sick, so Charlie explains. “I tried to Apparate us from the town back to the reserve, only it went wrong.” Gabe snorts and Charlie gives him a filthy look. “We ended up here, well, in a tunnel that a _Silver Wing_ just so happens to be using to curl up and die in. Thought you might want to know.”

There is a moment of silence and then the three of them are asking questions quicker than Charlie can answer them. He puts his hands up. “Look, I don’t know anything else, but if you want a live dragon then you’d better hurry up. Have you got the dragon medi-kit?”

Nala pats the bag slung across her shoulder. “Show me him.”

The other two search parties arrive and Charlie thanks whoever is listening that he doesn’t have to explain about it being under the Fidelius. All Draco has to do is point out the cave and they all see it.

Loretta and Ash wait by the entrance to keep watch as the rest of them go into the tunnel.

Charlie leads the way down to the dragon which has stopped roaring and is now lying curled up and shuddering sporadically. It’s going to take at least four of them to move him safely out of the cave.

They work as a team to hold the dragon, this is the most dangerous time to be around dragons and the time they need to get closest. Nala calculates the dose and uses a potion filled dart to sedate the dragon. Draco watches, pale and unmoving. Almost unblinking. Charlie doesn’t know what connection Draco feels to the dragon, but it has to be something beyond the usual dragon and handler. He stands next to Draco and puts a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t offer false hope, the dragon is in bad shape and he’s seen others he thought would pull through not make it. He just squeezes Draco’s shoulder and hopes for the best.

Nala and Jeffrey work their magic and use their potion skills to do what they can, then it’s up to Charlie, Luka, Ava and Nestor to lift the dragon and guide him out through the tunnel, Nala and Jeffrey alongside, keeping an eye on the dragon’s vital signs, Gabe leads the way, calling out directions to them and Draco trails behind looking stricken.

When they get back to the reserve and settle the dragon into a medi-pen, Loretta turns to them all. “Excellent work. We’ll need to keep watch on the Silver Wing twenty-four, seven, I’ll work up a rota.”

Draco looks like he’s going to object, but then he shuts his mouth.

Loretta turns to them next. “I’m going to need a full report. You up to it now?”

Charlie winces but nods. He’s knackered and just wants to crash out, but he can’t fault Loretta for wanting to get all the information out of them as soon as possible.

He would have thought Draco would be almost hysterical, but he just looks pale and tired.  
She questions Charlie first.

“I was distracted for a moment when we Disapparated,” he says. “We started making our way out when it became clear there was a dragon in there with us. I figured we were on the reserve, but somehow we ended up there.”

Loretta gives him a thoughtful look. “What was it that distracted you?”

Charlie can’t help feeling a bit stupid, having to tell her. “I was with Malfoy. But you know Apparition isn’t one of my strong points, anyway.”

Loretta’s lip twitches. He will never ever live down his failed Apparition test. Never. But he can’t pin it all on a kiss, no matter how mind blowing, that would be far too embarrassing.

“Malfoy said he’d been there before,” Charlie says, hating himself for having to divulge that before Malfoy gets to have his say, but Malfoy had gone and told him and he _does_ have a duty to Loretta and the reserve and every dragon on there.

“What did he say?” Loretta asks.

Charlie shakes his head. “Not a lot, but I’d rather you spoke to him about it. If there’s anything he won’t tell you then I’ll fill you in, but you should give him a chance.”

Loretta leans back in her chair, sighing and rolling her eyes. “You and your code of conduct. Right, send him in then.”

Charlie goes out to where Draco is waiting, the tap of his foot the only indication that his nerves are getting the better of him.

“Your turn,” he says.

He sits down in the chair vacated by Draco, exhaustion soon gets the better of him and he dozes off even with the discomfort of the chair.

*

Loretta slams the door to her office closed with a bang, jolting Charlie out of his doze. “Little bastard’s refusing to talk.” She’s furious and Charlie’s never seen her quite so worked up, he scrubs a hand over his face.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Charlie asks, feeling guilty for taking Draco’s side, but somehow sure he is making the right choice.

“You’re going to have to, he won’t say anything to me.” Loretta drops into the chair behind her desk. “He’s involved in something, I can feel it. I don’t know… I suggested he was some sort of poacher, but that doesn’t make sense to me and he got so out of hand I had to restrain him.”

Charlie’s heart plummets. “I’m going in,” he says. “He shouldn’t be on his own.”

“He’s fine,” Loretta calls after him, but Charlie is already flying through the door.

Draco is sitting on a hard chair, his hands bound behind him, legs tied to the chair, looking every bit as furious as Loretta, but more controlled. He’s flushed and his breathing seems slightly laboured - perhaps he’s been struggling against the bindings while he was alone - but otherwise he seems fine. And really Charlie should just ignore the tight feeling in his chest and his cock’s inappropriate reaction to seeing Draco tied up and fierce as any horntail.

Finally he finds his voice. “Are you alright?”

“What do you care?” Draco asks.

Charlie shrugs. “Maybe I don’t.”

“Then why bother asking? Your boss thinks I am a poacher,” Draco says with disgust.

Charlie swears under his breath. “Are you?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

Draco rolls his shoulders and then twists his head from side to side. Charlie wonders how long he’s been sitting like this. Long enough to get uncomfortable.

Charlie walks around the back of the chair – just standard issue magical cuffs. He’s a little disappointed, he realises, wishing for something more... elegant. And isn’t that a ridiculous thought, in here of all places?

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks, placing his hand on Draco’s shoulder. His skin is cool to the touch.

Draco shivers but he keeps his eyes facing forward. “I told you why,” he says.

Charlie sighs heavily, coming back round the chair. He stops directly in front of Draco. He’s too tired to do this properly and his resistance is low, he is mesmerised by the hard little nubs of Draco’s nipples evident against the fabric of his shirt. It’s not that cold in here. His hand twitches and he curls it into a loose fist.

Draco raises an eyebrow at Charlie after he’s been silent for far too long. “Is that all?” he asks. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

Charlie shakes himself. “Do you understand the situation you’ve managed to get yourself in? Loretta’s about ready to call in the DMLE to drag you off to Azkaban for endangering such a rare creature.” It’s a little white lie, but he needs to shake Draco up a bit.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Draco says darkly, and he’s looking up at Charlie with that piercing gaze of his.

Charlie stares at him, caught by the way Draco is looking right back at him, with his chin tilted up in defiance. Charlie leans forward, looming over him and Draco flinches ever so slightly. Charlie braces one arm against the wall and gets right in Draco’s face and it’s strangely satisfying to see the hard look return to his eyes, the determined set of his jaw, even as his breathing speeds up. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. Charlie almost forgets what he’s supposed to be doing, his eyes flicking down to Draco’s lips as he moistens them, perhaps a show of nerves.

Draco stares at Charlie, infuriatingly cool and collected. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Weasley?”

Charlie blinks at Draco, dumbfounded.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about tying me up and giving it to me,” Draco says in that elegant drawl of his.

Charlie’s mouth goes dry. Now that Draco has put the thought there he can’t seem to shake it. He takes in the set of Draco’s jaw, the challenge in his eyes. It’s like he wants it. It’s like he’s just begging Charlie to make the move. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s been barking up the wrong tree asking him if he wants it all along.

Charlie almost forgets where he is. Almost. He looks over at the door. Loretta is just the other side. She could come in at any moment.

Charlie runs his finger along Draco’s jaw and Draco tilts his head up, following the direction. The movement thrills Charlie. He tips Draco’s head to the side, meeting no resistance. He dips his head, his breath ghosting across Draco’s neck and he can see the way Draco’s skin rises in goosebumps.

He doesn’t ask this time. He kisses Draco there, on his neck, with the thrill of his pulse under Charlie’s lips. He tries not to think about Draco being helplessly bound, except that the knowledge is only adding fuel to the fire that’s building inside him. He has to be careful with this creature.

Charlie rests his hands softly against the sharpness of Draco’s shoulders. Draco breathes in, his eyes wide and dark.

“Is this what you want? To be taken care of,” Charlie asks.

Draco shivers. “Not… I… I don’t need to be taken care of.” There’s an edge to his voice. Charlie pulls back to look at him.

“I think you do,” he says. “Let me.”

Draco closes his eyes and Charlie knows it’s so that he can shut off that vulnerable side he’s just glimpsed. He rubs his hands in circles over Draco’s shoulders. “Tell me what you can and I’ll take you back and show you how well I can take care of you,” he says.

“You don’t even know why the Ministry sent me here, do you?” Draco says, his voice sounding very far away.

“Are you going to tell me?”

Draco’s shoulders drop.

“If you don’t then you know that Loretta will have no option but to send you back. I doubt it would be a good thing for you, and right now I really don’t want you to go.”

Draco’s lips twist in a kind of smile. “They’re trying to get to my father.”

Charlie frowns, whatever he was expecting it wasn’t that. “He’s in Romania?”

Draco’s eyes shift to the side. “They think that if he knows I’m here, he’ll come to me. They have no idea…”

“So he hasn’t?”

Draco gives him a pained look and Charlie squeezes his shoulder. “Why here?”

“We have family here.”

“What happens if your father never turns up?”

Draco shrugs. “I don’t know. I suppose they would make me go back, unless…” He glances at Charlie, licking his lips.

“Is that what this is about?” Charlie asks. “Am I supposed to be the one to keep you here?”

Draco tilts his head up in defiance. “There is nobody else.”

It’s a strange thing to say, and Charlie sighs. He has no idea what it is that Draco really wants… He’s no closer to the truth about the dragon.

“If you want to stay, Draco, you have to give me some sort of an answer: why is that dragon there and how did you come to be the Secret Keeper for it?”

“He is mine,” Draco says urgently, leaning forward, his eyes full of fire again. “He is mine and I have to protect him.”

Charlie growls. “How is he yours?”

“I was bound to him from birth.” Draco drops his gaze. “If he dies…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Charlie completes it in his head.

“Alright. I’ll talk to Loretta,” he says. “But you’re going to be watched more closely from now on and there’s no way you’ll be getting your own hut.”

Draco nods, his shoulder drop but he looks relieved.

Loretta takes off the magical bindings and Draco rolls his shoulders, but he won’t look at Charlie.

They both tumble into their beds and fall asleep almost straight away, but when Charlie wakes again, Draco is gone.

“Shit!” He hauls himself up out of bed and looks all over the village for the tosser. No-one knows where he is, so Charlie grabs a broom and flies down to the reserve.

He should have known, of course. He should have guessed, at least. Draco is on the viewing platform above the pens. He is staring at the Silver Wing.

“He’s going to be alright,” Draco says, without looking at Charlie. “His wing is broken, there are a lot of gashes. Another dragon attacked him. The Ridgeback.”

Charlie nods. “I wondered. I suppose the boundary must have failed to allow him out again.” He’s fishing, but Draco doesn’t rise to the bait. “So are you feeling any better?”

Draco does look at him then. “Not really. He was supposed to be free.”

“He will be. We’ll let him out on the reserve once he’s healed.”

Draco purses his lips. “It’s not the same thing. He’s not going to be happy about it.”

Charlie leans on the railing, next to Draco, too close really, but he likes the feel of Draco’s shoulder pressed against his.

“But he’ll be safer here and he won’t have to hide away in that cave. His whole being should be longing to get out there. That’s probably why he got injured in the first place. I bet he’s desperate to get his end away.”

Draco looks at him with a horrified expression on his face.

Charlie snorts. “I don’t know what the deal is with you and that dragon, but I’m telling you, if he’s like the others he’ll be desperate to mate.”

“But he’s not like the others,” Draco says.

“I know there aren’t any other Silver Wings out there, but we do have some mixed pairs.”

He feels Draco shudder. “No, that’s not going to happen.”

Charlie just grins. There’s no point in arguing with Draco, but he knows dragons. Charlie puts his hand on Draco’s back, stroking up and caressing his neck. Draco doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign. Charlie doesn’t do any more than that, though he’d like to see what would happen if he pulled Draco in and kissed the living daylights out of him right now.

“Come back to the village. I promised to show you how well I can take care of you.”

Draco levels him with a look that smoulders. “You did.”

Charlie lowers his hand and moves away slowly, he doesn’t look back to see if Draco is following.

By the time they get back to the hut, Charlie feels like a coiled spring and Draco looks as if he’s burning up from the inside out. Charlie closes the door and rounds on Draco, pulling him close and caressing the back of his neck, picking up where he left off on the reserve, sliding his fingers up into Draco’s hair and tightening his grip, pulling him forward into a kiss.

Draco gasps at the twist and tug, and Charlie takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Draco’s mouth. Draco’s hands come up to clutch at Charlie’s arms, squeezing around his biceps, his fingertips digging in.

Charlie pulls him over to the bed, hands wandering all over Draco’s slender body, untucking his work shirt from the breeches, uncovering that soft smooth skin and sliding his callused hands up until he has the shirt off.

His chest is firm, and so smooth except for those scars. Charlie runs his fingertips along them. “How did you get these?” he asks, they make him shiver.

“It was an accident,” Draco says. “Not with a dragon,” he adds, but Charlie shakes his head, he’s seen enough injuries from dragons to know it couldn’t be that.

“Some accident,” Charlie says, but he doesn’t pry any further. He presses his lips against the uppermost scar and Draco takes a tight breath, his skin is flushed and Charlie doesn’t need to look to see that he’s turned on.

He takes his wand out and makes quick work of making two beds into one, pushing Draco down onto it and kissing his bare chest.

“Fuck, I want you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since the first day.” Draco’s body tenses up under him and he pulls back to look at him. “What’s wrong? You don’t want me to fuck you?” He keeps his voice even. “Talk to me, Draco.”

Draco reaches up and pulls Charlie down, pressing soft kisses to his lips. “Can’t we do other things?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says, relieved, but also curious… and worried. “Is there anything the matter?” he asks, but Draco just pulls him down for another kiss, closing his eyes and shutting everything he’s feeling behind them.

Charlie strokes his hand gently up and down Draco’s side. “Look at me,” he says and Draco opens his eyes, the silver of them startling this close. “I’d like to know, so that I don’t do anything that freaks you out.”

Draco clenches his jaw and his expression takes on that aloof expression that drives Charlie mad.

“I’m not going to _freak out_.”

Charlie slides his hand over Draco’s arse, it feels so good to touch him after thinking about it for so long, he strokes his fingers down between Draco’s arse cheeks and Draco stiffens again. Charlie takes his hand away. He holds Draco close for a moment. “Did someone hurt you?” he asks.

Draco looks offended at the suggestion. “Don’t be absurd,” he says.

“Then what…”

“I’ve never done… that.”

Charlie drops his head against Draco’s chest in relief. “Alright,” he says. “Alright. That’s okay. Any particular reason or just… you don’t want to?”

Draco gives him a look that says he doesn’t wish to discuss it.

Charlie feels an overwhelming frustration - he wants Draco’s arse so much. He strokes Draco’s thigh, calming himself as well as Draco with the motion.

“Tell me what you want; what you’ve done before,” he says.

Draco’s skin flushes and for some reason he looks angry again. “I had a girlfriend at Hogwarts, she used to suck me off.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, starting to sweat. “Anything else.”

“Sometimes she just used her hand.”

Charlie is trying to tamp down his anger, because for fuck’s sake Draco’s in his twenties already, how the fuck does he get to this age with no more experience than a few, probably crappy, blow jobs and hand jobs with his teenage sweetheart?

“Anyone outside of school?” he asks.

The humiliation is burning Draco up and he sounds furious when he replies. “It might have escaped your notice, but I am marked. It’s not like I had people throwing themselves at me at home.”

“Yeah, but… no-one?” Charlie looks at him. He’s not beautiful exactly. He’s got too many sharp angles including the ones in his personality, but he’s sexy as hell.

“No-one that I wanted,” Draco says haughtily.

Charlie grins, he can’t help it. “That makes more sense.”

Draco’s lips quirk up at the corners in spite of himself.

“Okay,” Charlie says. “Okay, then. I’m not doing anything you don’t want me to.”

Charlie slides his fingers along the scars that criss-cross Draco’s abdomen, he keeps being drawn to them again and again. Draco is looking down at him, his expression inscrutable, and Charlie can’t tell if it’s making him anxious or not, so he stops.

He undoes Draco’s breeches and kisses the jut of Draco’s hips as he uncovers them. His skin is warm, and Charlie can smell all the scents mingling on his skin – soap and laundry detergent and fresh air – and, under that, the darker, erotic scent of him - the warm tang of fresh sweat and arousal.

Charlie pulls off his breeches along with his boots and socks, everything ends up on the floor in an untidy heap.

He looks at Draco spread out on the bed, naked and flushed, his cock hard and glistening at the tip. Charlie’s mouth goes dry with desire.

“Merlin, look at you. You’re perfect,” he says.

Draco swallows. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?” he asks, his voice hard-edged with nerves.

Charlie looks down, blinking at his clothed self. He starts undressing himself and he’s shocked to note that his fingers are trembling slightly. His clothes join the pile of Draco’s and he kneels on the bed. God he could worship that body. He lies down next to Draco and puts his hand on Draco’s hip.

“Come here,” he says, and Draco does. Charlie wraps his arms around smoothing his hands against Draco’s arse and hooking his leg over Draco’s thigh. He reaches under his pillow, bringing out a tube of muggle lubricant that he much prefers to spells that do the same thing. He pushes his slick hand in between them, closing it around both of their cocks.

Draco is tense to begin - the only indication that he might be enjoying himself is the hand that curls around Charlie’s hip, holding on tight. But as Charlie strokes them both Draco starts making noises, soft moans, biting his lip against anything louder. He starts fucking up into Charlie’s hand and he’s quickly at the very edge, Charlie can tell from the way his breaths stutter, the way he can’t hold back the more violent moans, the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, the way his fingertips dig in hard.

Charlie lets go of his own cock, concentrating on stroking Draco, teasing his balls until he feels them tighten and he brings Draco right over the edge, coaxing the most amazing noises from him that threaten to drag Charlie along for the ride. But he’s not ready to come yet, he wants more than this. He strokes Draco’s back as he finishes shuddering his release and then he relaxes completely, going limp against Charlie’s chest.

Charlie strokes his back and kisses his neck, waiting for him to recover but not letting him fall asleep. He’s young, younger than Charlie, with a quicker recovery time and soon enough the way that Charlie is sucking on his neck and running his hands gently over Draco’s arse has him getting hard again.

“Fuck, yes,” Charlie moans, as Draco’s cock stiffens and this time he’s far looser and more relaxed. “Turn over,” Charlie says, his voice rough with desire. “I want to rub against your arse. I’m not going to try and fuck you. Trust me. Please.”

Draco gives him a heavy lidded look and makes a decision, rolling over, facing away from Charlie widening the space between them, but Charlie slicks his cock up with some more of the lube and pulls him close and starts sliding his cock along the cleft of Draco’s arse.

“Oh fuck, fucking hell, Draco.” Charlie holds his hips still as he works himself up, looking down to see his cock sliding between Draco’s arse cheeks. That perfect arse flexing.

Draco is breathing hard and Charlie rubs his hip and kisses his neck, hardly daring to ask. “You alright? Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Draco says, his voice sounding tight.

“Really?” Charlie asks.

Draco twists his head and finds Charlie’s mouth with awkward, sloppy kisses, turning frantic. Charlie finds Draco’s hand and brings it down to Draco’s cock, both of them wrapping around it.

“Do it,” he says.

Draco’s strokes match Charlie’s thrusts, and Charlie’s heart pounds so hard he can feel it in his extremities. He lets go of Draco’s hand so that he can touch Draco’s arse instead, squeezing the cheeks together and thrusting harder and faster until he feels his whole body tighten, on edge.

“Close,” he says, grunting with the effort of it, Draco is making those sounds again, tight high _huhhuhhuh_ ’s that drive Charlie mad, and Charlie pulls away, finishing himself off with his hand, coming all over Draco’s arse and Draco cries out and judders uncontrollably.

After he’s cleaned them both up, Charlie tugs Draco in and Draco turns around in the circle of his arms, letting his hands roam Charlie’s body. He seems to like Charlie’s muscles rather a lot – spending time feeling them and he runs his fingertips gently, barely there, over the shiny smooth burnt patch of skin that runs all the way down his right arm, sucking in a breath.

The tattoo he seems to touch with a sort of reverence. “I like this,” he says.

“Yeah, I figured you might, when you were staring at it in the hot spring.”

Draco watches it unfurl its wings and raise its head, stretching its neck. It takes off gliding across Charlie’s skin, and Draco bites his lip and looks up at Charlie. “Did it hurt?”

Charlie grins. “Not too bad. Not as bad as I reckon that must’ve,” he says, smoothing his hand over Draco’s mark.

Draco looks down at it. “I was sick. When they gave it to me.”

Charlie strokes the skin. The mark is dull now, the magic that infused it is dead and it feels dry. “Ever thought of getting rid of it?”

Draco shakes his head slightly. “It can’t be removed.”

It makes Charlie’s chest feel tight. He feels like he’s going to explode, but it would do no good. He rubs his thumb over the mark once more and then he lets go.

“I thought I wanted it at the time,” he says, after a while.

Charlie who had been close to drifting off opens his eyes. “Yeah, we do stupid things when we’re kids.”

That makes Draco laugh, but it sounds hollow. “If you can call swearing allegiance to a maniac merely stupid.”

Charlie strokes his hand up and down Draco’s back once. “Yeah, well that’s all behind you now,” he says, and he closes his eyes cutting off any further discussion.

*

The next few weeks are pretty damn good as far as Charlie is concerned. The Silver Wing is recovering well, Mildred the green recovers enough to be released back onto the reserve and there is a joyful reunion with her children.

And then there’s Draco.

Charlie hasn’t bothered to separate their beds out into singles again and Draco hasn’t objected. Charlie can’t keep his hands to himself where Draco is concerned. It feels different to anything that Charlie’s experienced before, but he dismisses it as the benefit of being able to crash out afterwards without one or other of them having to get up and go to another hut, and never mind that they always end up sleeping all tangled up together. And when they wake, they bring one another off yet again. Draco has taken to blow jobs like a dragon to hoarding.

It’s not until Lars corners him that he realises he’s losing his mind.

“You’re fucking the little dragon,” he says, without any preamble.

Charlie feels himself getting hot just at the mention of Draco. “Shit, Lars, I’m sorry, I should have said something. Yeah, I finally got in there.” He doesn’t feel the need to go into detail.

Lars claps him on the back. “No worries, I thought it must be. You have the look of a man in love.”

“Fuck off!” Charlie says, blushing bright red. “Soft bastard.” But he feels suddenly uncomfortable in his skin.

Lars gives him a knowing look which Charlie chooses to ignore.

“I shall find another,” Lars says, sounding sorry for himself.

“No, I mean, yeah ‘course, but don’t rule me out entirely,” Charlie says, his heart pounding in a way that makes him feel queasy.

Lars gives him a disbelieving look, shaking his head, and he squeezes Charlie’s shoulder. “If that’s true then come to me tonight.”

Charlie does think he’s going to be sick then. A million excuses spring to mind, but he swallows them and brazens it out, grinning. “Yeah? I’ll see you later,” he says and he gropes Lars’ arse, which only serves to remind him of how perfect Draco’s arse is.

He’s out of sorts for the whole day, it takes a lot of effort to keep his temper under control, particularly when it comes to Draco. They are working on repairs and he can’t help sniping and Draco snipes right back at him, which escalates things until he stops talking altogether, in lieu of being able to storm off.

After work he goes to the hot spring, making it clear that he doesn’t want Draco to come along. He lies back in the blissfully warm water, closing his eyes, but everything he’s been trying to keep at bay crowds his thoughts.

He feels sick when he thinks about agreeing to meet Lars later, but there’s no way he can back out of it now, not if he wants to keep his pride intact. The thing with Draco, it’s just… it’s intense, but it’s nothing. It’s a few weeks of sex, and he still hasn’t fucked him yet. He has got as far as kissing his arse, licking along the cleft, his tongue swiping across Draco’s tightly clenched hole, but no further. He’s scared and Charlie doesn’t want to put him off forever by shoving anything in there before he’s ready, but it is frustrating. It’s more than frustrating, he is desperate. The thought of being inside Draco is enough to make Charlie hard in a second.

Lars will let Charlie fuck him, if he wants.

Charlie groans and gives up on trying to relax. He washes himself thoroughly, scrubbing like he might be able to scrub off the horrible feeling he has.

Draco is not in the hut when he arrives back. It makes life easier. He gets dressed and goes to the main hut for supper.

Lars is there and Charlie sits next to him, nudging into him. “Alright?” he asks.

Lars gives him a sorrowful look. “You’re still planning for tonight?”

Charlie shrugs. “If you’re up for it.”

“It’s not good for me,” Lars says.

Charlie feels like a great weight has lifted from his shoulders. His heart feels lighter. “Okay, no worries. Another time.”

Lars grins at him. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says, but he sounds fond rather than annoyed and Charlie returns the smile.

Charlie stays on for cards, trading banter with the other handlers and feeling like he’s flying.

Draco still isn’t there when Charlie gets back to the hut and his stomach plummets. The medi-pen is the most likely place he’s going to be, so Charlie flies down there without checking anywhere else in the village first.

Sure enough he is there, so close to the barrier that Charlie can see it flickering. The Silver Wing’s neck is fully extended, and it seems as though it is looking down its snout at Draco.

“Draco,” Charlie says, uncertainly.

Draco doesn’t look at him, but Charlie can see the way his shoulders tense. “What do you want?” Draco asks.

“I didn’t know where you’d got to. Are you alright?”

Draco turns and examines Charlie with a cold look. “I thought you were sick of listening to my bullshit,” Draco says, quoting Charlie’s words back at him.

Charlie doesn’t even stop to think - he crosses the short distance between them and pulls Draco into his arms. The rightness of it outweighs the anxiety he feels that this is going too fast. Draco’s body is stiff and unyielding and he pushes Charlie away, but Charlie pulls him in again and kisses Draco’s neck. “I’m sorry, I was working some stuff out,” he says in a low voice.

Draco pushes him away again. “Not here,” he says, and he has a point. The Silver Wing is getting restless, dipping its head and flaring its nostrils.

Charlie takes hold of Draco’s hand and pulls him away from the medi-pen.

“Come on, come back to the village,” he says. He mounts his broom and waits for Draco. He keeps checking over his shoulder on the way back, to make sure that Draco is still with him.

When they get back to their hut, the awkwardness returns. Draco walks across to the bed and sits down on the edge. Charlie doesn’t know what to say. This is exactly why he never wanted a relationship that went beyond sex. This moment when he knows he should say something and he knows it’s his fault, but nothing comes to mind.

Nothing except pressing Draco down on the bed and making him forget his own name. But he’s pretty sure that won’t do.

Charlie goes over to Draco, standing in front of him and pulling him close, so that Draco’s head rests against Charlie’s stomach. He slides his fingers through Draco’s hair and resists the urge to crack a joke about it being the perfect position…

Draco’s shoulders are tense and Charlie smooths and rubs his hands over them until they start to ease, and Draco starts to make small content noises.

Charlie sits down next to him and starts kissing him, rubbing his hand over the bulge of Draco’s erection, but Draco pushes his hand away.

Charlie falters. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Not everything can be solved with sex.”

Charlie feels like he’s been slapped. He drops his hand away. “I’m not… I _know_. I’m not trying to do that. Just… fuck, Draco, I want you. All the fucking time.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me anywhere near you today.”

Charlie drops his gaze and he can feel his cheeks flaming. “I told you I was sorry about that.”

Draco cups Charlie’s jaw and brings him closer for a soft kiss. “You’re a fool.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that today.”

Draco studies him for a moment. “What was it about?”

Charlie shrugs, too embarrassed to admit that he’s scared to death. “Just being stupid,” he says.

“I understand if you don’t wish to be with me any longer. I know that penetrative sex is the holy grail to some people.” He makes it sound like those people are witless imbeciles, but Charlie recognises the way that Draco’s tone and his expression harden when he tries to cover his hurt.

“It’s not that,” Charlie says. “I like what we do, a lot.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He curls his hand around the nape of Draco’s neck and strokes it. “Can we just drop it? It’s my fault, but I’m sorry, alright?”

Draco makes him sweat for a minute but then he kisses him again. “Alright,” he agrees and he brings Charlie’s hand back to his crotch, his cock has gone soft in the interim but Charlie soon brings it to attention.

Draco isn’t shy about what he does to Charlie, far from it. He wrenches Charlie’s shirt off and goes for his chest, rubbing his face against it and caressing a nipple with his lips. The first time he did that Charlie laughed and said he wasn’t a girl, to which Draco gave him a filthy look and bit it hard. Charlie tingles in anticipation and Draco doesn’t disappoint, biting and pulling the nub between his teeth, sending a bolt of pure lust to Charlie’s cock.

“Fuck me,” Charlie says and Draco looks up from where he’s pressing his tongue flat against Charlie’s still tingling nipple. Charlie grins at him. “If you want.”

Draco’s grin takes on a slightly feral look that makes a shiver run down Charlie’s spine and his cock twitch.

“Get undressed,” Draco says.

Charlie raises his eyebrows at the commanding tone of voice, but he does as he’s told. He stands in front of Draco feeling ever so slightly vulnerable and unsure of himself.

“What now, oh master?” Charlie asks.

“Don’t joke about those things,” Draco says. “But you can get on the bed, lie on your back.”

“Bossy bastard,” Charlie says, but he lies back and enjoys the show as Draco undoes his breeches and slides them down, taking them off.

“Pass me the lubricant.”

Charlie reaches under his pillow, catching Draco’s eyes and holding them, trying to see his intent in there. He seems different tonight and Charlie’s not entirely sure he can trust him. The thought is only compounded when Draco reaches beneath the bed and pulls out the box of toys, rummaging through until he finds Charlie’s favourite vibrating butt plug.

“Alright, how long have you known that was under there?” he asks.

“Oh please, as if a simple disillusionment charm could hide your chest of treasures from me.”

Charlie’s cock is standing up and begging at the sight of the butt plug. Draco slathers a good amount of lube over the plug. It’s a simple black latex, not too big, but enough to feel it. Muggle made.

Draco presses it against Charlie’s hole and he relaxes to take it. Draco’s looks fascinated, his eyes keep darting up to Charlie’s face as if to see if he’s alright, which he is. Better than.

When it’s finally seated, Draco wiggles it up then down and Charlie can’t hold back a moan. Draco charms it to vibrate and Charlie arches back and cries out.

Draco smirks at him. “That good? Are you sure you want to fuck me, Weasley? You look like you’ve been desperate for it, yourself.”

“I want your arse, Malfoy,” Charlie growls, as Draco runs his fingertips along the insides of Charlie’s thighs, ignoring the straining, leaking cock that’s right in front of him. Charlie grips the bedclothes, knowing instinctively that Draco won’t let him touch himself.

“Well, there are reasons you can’t have it yet,” Draco says. He gets up and goes over to his trunk, taking something out and holding it just out of Charlie’s line of sight. He tilts his head to the side. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

Charlie blinks. “Now you’re asking,” he says.

“You don’t, do you?” Draco sits back down on the bed. “You have no idea what I have in my hand: it could be something nice or something nasty. Will you close your eyes and let me use it?”

Charlie stares at him, licking his lips and weighing up the pros and cons, which isn’t easy when the toy inside him is destroying his mental capacity.

“You’re not bound,” Draco says, “you could easily overpower me.” He runs his hand over Charlie’s bicep as if to emphasise the point. “But are you strong enough to withstand the need to touch yourself, if I tell you to?”

Charlie swallows hard. “I’ll shut my eyes, but if you fuck with me you’ll get the rough end of my temper.”

Draco smirks. “I am most definitely going to be fucking with you, Weasley.”

Charlie frowns. “You know what I mean.”

Draco draws his fingertips down over Charlie’s eyes, closing them for him. The buzz of the butt plug seems suddenly loud in the quiet of the room, and he has to strain to hear Draco. He can feel him moving on the bed and then there is the sharp point of something against his nipple. He can’t seem to open his eyes.

“Draco what the fuck did you do,” he asks.

“I closed your eyes, you said you were willing,” Draco says, he’s drawing the point of the thing around Charlie’s nipple. It doesn’t hurt, but blades don’t hurt to begin with.

“I can keep my own eyes closed.”

“You were going to open them, or you wouldn’t have realised that you couldn’t.”

Charlie can’t argue with that. “No, alright, no I don’t trust you. You were keeping a dragon off reserve and I don’t know why, and you’re a Death Eater...”

“That wasn’t very far beneath the surface, was it?” Draco digs the point in against his flesh. “Do you want me to stop?” He sounds so calm.

Charlie nods. “Yes.”

Draco opens Charlie’s eyes. He’s holding a quill in his hand. A black quill, with a gold nib at the end, and Charlie feels a fool. He had panicked; expected something far worse.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Draco asks, touching Charlie’s wrist, still free.

“I don’t know,” Charlie says. “I…”

“Maybe because you knew you were never in any real danger,” Draco says. “Fascinating isn’t it?”

Charlie frowns at him. “Not really, no.”

Draco looks at him and, bizarrely, he blushes. He tosses the quill off the edge of the bed. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asks.

Charlie is feeling very odd and he couldn’t really say what he wants anymore. He feels like he’s been turned upside down and shaken. “Come here,” he says gruffly.

Draco lies on top of him and Charlie wraps his arms around Draco’s slender body. Feeling him like this he knows he could easily overpower him. He could really hurt Draco if he wanted to. It loosens the anxious, tight feeling in his chest. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

Draco shrugs lightly. “Nothing that you said was untrue. I did keep the location of a dragon from you and I am a Death Eater with the mark to show for it, nothing changes that fact.”

“Nothing changes the fact that you’re not now,” Charlie says, his voice rising.

“Shhh,” Draco says, soothing him with a soft hand over his chest. He licks the curve of Charlie’s ear.

Charlie shudders, head to foot and clutches at Draco, so close to the edge. He slides his hands over Draco’s arse. “Fucking hell, Draco, I need to come. Like half an hour ago.”

Draco wriggles on top of Charlie, nudging his knee in between Charlie’s legs and up, pressing against the base of the plug.

Charlie swears, gripping Draco’s arse and pulling him in tight. Draco nuzzles his neck and slides his leg back and forth, nudging Charlie’s balls and the plug every time.

When Draco wraps his hand around Charlie’s cock it’s too much to bear, he comes within a few strokes, swearing profusely, and he nearly leaps right off the bed when Draco wiggles the plug again, the little bastard. Finally Draco stops it vibrating and withdrawn, and Charlie feels like he’s been turned inside out.

He is melting into the mattress when he realises that Draco is wanking himself off, alerted to the sound of skin slapping against skin and the soft grunts he is making.

The sight is spectacular: Draco kneeling above him, his face flushed and distorted by the desperate need for release.

Charlie catches his eye. “Go on,” he says, “come over me.”

Draco holds his gaze, stiffening for that split second before he comes over Charlie’s stomach and chest.

Afterwards Draco flops down beside him. Charlie listens to Draco’s breathing slowing and drawing out, he can tell that Draco is falling asleep. He turns on his side, putting his hand on Draco’s hip. He looks deceptively serene, Charlie thinks, but he doesn’t know what’s going on with him. It’s clear that something is troubling him and the refusal to be fucked - it hasn’t escaped his notice that Draco didn’t end up fucking him tonight, either - is bothering Charlie.

He falls asleep, wondering if he knows Draco Malfoy at all.

*

The next day there is no sign of the Draco of the night before. He seems more relaxed - settling in, at long last, Charlie thinks.

Draco even starts up a quietly intense conversation with Nala about the Silver Wing and the projected release, which should be in the next few days, all things being well.

Lars regards Charlie with an amused expression. “Things better now?” he asks.

Charlie turns away from Draco and Nala to give him a smile. “I dunno, he’s weird. Not like anyone I know.”

“Is that bad?”

Charlie shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Lars nods but doesn’t offer any kind of advice, which Charlie is thankful for.

On the reserve both of them are professional to the extent that no-one would know there was anything more than a working relationship between them, though Charlie is pleased to note that Draco’s work style fits with his perfectly. They complement one another. He’s thinking beyond the probation period, to the years beyond and he’s surprised to find that it doesn’t send his blood pressure skyrocketing.

After work, once they’ve put their brooms away in the hut, he puts his arm around Draco and suggests sharing a hot spring, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Draco readily agrees.

The next few days are much the same. Then finally the Silver Wing is cleared to be released onto the reserve and Draco shuts Charlie out without a word. They’re supposed to be listing the females that are getting ready to lay and making notes on their condition, but Draco’s mind is elsewhere. Eventually Charlie sits back, putting away the parchment and quick quotes quill.

“Come on then, let’s go and see him.”

Draco looks startled for all of a second before a look of hope crosses his face. Charlie stands up, dusting himself off. They fly over to the medi-pens just in time to help out with the arrival of a young Horntail whose tail has nearly been severed with no indication of how or where it might have happened.

“We’ll need to go and check the area where he was found,” Charlie says, quietly. “After the Silver Wing has been released,” he adds at Draco’s panicked look.

A lot of the handlers arrive over the course of the next couple of hours and Loretta turns up five minutes before the release.

Charlie would have expected Draco to be at the front, but he hangs back, his arm pressed against Charlie’s his fingertips brushing Charlie’s palm. Charlie catches his hand and squeezes it.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says in a low voice, leaning in to Draco.

Draco looks even more pale than usual, completely drained of colour, except for those expressive grey eyes, that look as though they are brewing a storm.

The Silver Wing is a majestic beast. He allows himself to be floated out of the pen and onto the wide open plain. The riders are ready with their brooms to fly alongside. Draco’s fingers dig into Charlie’s hand as the Silver Wing unfurls its wings, spreading them wide and flapping them, testing them out. Then he takes off, far more gracefully than he should with that large body. The riders have a job keeping up, not having anticipated that.

Draco has a fierce look on his face, something like joy.

“Come on,” Charlie says. “Let’s go and see how he settles with the others.”

They kick off on their brooms, flying high and fast. It’s hard to lose a dragon in the air , but the Silver Wing is a sleek flier and if he flies like this now, having only just been given the all clear from a broken wing, he’s going to be like a rocket when he’s up to full strength. Charlie is flying full out with Draco right alongside him, and they’re only very slowly gaining on the group.

Charlie can’t believe he’s finally getting to see one in real life. As the finder, along with Draco, he’ll be the one to study the dragon and write the books, adding to the notes and sketches he’s already completed. The thought makes him glance over at Draco with a twinge of uncertainty. He can’t _stop_ Charlie from doing a study, but Merlin knows he could make life difficult if he wanted to. Charlie will have to cross that bridge when it comes to it, though he hopes he can bring him round to thinking it would be a good idea without there being any need for bridges.

The Silver Wing whirls round in a corkscrew and changes direction, flying down suddenly. The handlers hold fast, high in the air, keeping formation, watching. It’s only when the rogue, Charlie’s vicious little Ridgeback shoots from the cover of the trees that Charlie realises. He calls a warning, not that anyone will be able to hear them, but they’re all flying clear anyway.

A moment later he’s aware that Draco is no longer by his side but flying right into the firing line.

“For fuck’s sake,” he yells, racing down after Draco, his heart thudding painfully hard as he trains his sight on the pale blur of Draco’s hair, bright in the sunlight.

Nothing else matters but getting Draco back. The two dragons are each sending bursts of flame at one another. It seems like more than the usual fight for dominance. They fly at one another, talons digging in to get a purchase against one another. The Ridgeback’s hold slips and the Silver Wing gets in a bite at his shoulder.

They fly apart and Charlie catches sight of Draco - the mad fucking bastard - flying to the Silver Wing. He’s not sure he can believe his eyes when Draco leaps off his broomstick, whilst he’s still going at about a hundred miles an hour and onto the Silver Wing’s back. The sight pulls him up short and he wheels round on his broom wildly.

Draco is leaning down against the dragon’s neck and Charlie is willing to bet that he’s making that low noise, talking to him. Instantly the dragon seems to calm. Not so the Ridgeback. Charlie can see the damn thing flapping like a lunatic duck, hanging in the air for a moment before he gets his wits back and shoots up to where the Silver Wing with Draco on his back is flying.

“Draco!” Charlie screams, his voice so full of panic that it cracks.

He is flying, vaguely aware of other handlers coming to help, but all he can do is focus on Draco and chant _hold on, hold on, hold on_.

The Silver Wing lashes out at the Ridgeback but he’s already picking up speed. Charlie can see Draco wand arm outstretched. They have to be flying for the boundary and freedom.

Charlie follows them all the way, the Ridgeback falling behind. There’s only one other person who might keep up with him and he darts a look over his shoulder to see Loretta hot on his tail. There’s no way he’s going to be able to get Draco out of this one unless he can stop him.

Charlie flattens himself against the handle of his broom, the wind whipping his hair around his face, catching his breath and taking it away. He’s rarely flown this fast, but it feels like his life depends on it now.

“Draco,” he yells, but his voice is lost in the roar of the wind.

Charlie doesn’t want to call too much attention to himself where the Silver Wing is concerned, so he flies up above and behind, taking out his wand and sending his Patronus to Draco.

Draco doesn’t even turn to look at him, banishing Charlie’s Ridgeback-Patronus with a wave of his wand.

Charlie swears loudly and colourfully. It’s suicidal to do what Draco did and leap onto the back of a dragon, except he’s still alive. Charlie sucks in a deep breath, not quite believing he’s thinking of doing this and yet… and yet, he’s dreamt of it before. Flying on the back of a dragon. Having all that power beneath him. If he wasn’t terrified he’d probably get off on it.

He flies as close as he dares and Draco finally does look back, his eyes widening behind his goggles. He shakes his head frantically at Charlie, but Charlie glares at him, readying himself for the leap.

There’s a moment of weightlessness. His broomstick is gone. If he misses… it’s a long way down. He slams into the body and bounces, rolling towards the wing, scrabbling for a handhold along the line of scales. He hits the wing casting a rope with his wand and then there’s Draco’s hand reaching out for him. Charlie grabs hold of him with both hands, hauling himself up.

Draco seems to be able to hang on without any effort, and Charlie takes the help offered. He sits up behind Draco, hands on Draco’s waist, trying not to hold too tight. It isn’t anything like riding a broom, and his dreams have nothing on the feeling of riding a beast that is moving without his direction. He feels powerless and yet, somehow, incredibly powerful.

He leans in to Draco. “You have to stop this,” he yells above the wind. “I can’t do anything if you leave the reserve.”

Draco puts a hand over Charlie’s. “We’re not going back,” he shouts.

Charlie’s stomach plummets. “Don’t be an idiot, Draco,” he says. “You’ll be running forever if you do this.”

Draco doesn’t say anything to that. Charlie grips his hand. “Please,” he says. He grabs Draco’s chin and pulls him round, trying to kiss him - an impossible thing to do on the back of a moving dragon. “Fucking… fuck it,” he yells. “You fucking stupid bastard, I don’t want you to leave.”

Draco’s hand slips out of Charlie’s, they’re nearing the boundary already. When Charlie looks back over his shoulder, Loretta is nothing but a speck in the distance.

He pinches Draco’s side. “Don’t do this,” he says, his mouth close to Draco’s ear. “Come back with me.”

Draco shrugs him away, his wand hand outstretched once more. Charlie reaches up, gripping Draco’s forearm and pulling it back. “You stupid shit, turn around and look at me.”

Draco does finally, and Charlie cups his face with both hands. “Do you want to have to run forever? To never, ever be able to stop?”

“You don’t understand,” Draco yells back, his hands going up to cover Charlie’s. “What does it matter? It’s not like I belong anywhere.”

“You belong _here_ ,” Charlie shouts.

“What, with you?” Draco asks, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. “Why? Because you want to fuck me? What then?”

“Shit, Draco, if I wanted a quick fuck don’t you think I’d have got tired of you a long time ago? I’m… fuck… I’m in love with you, you… you self-centred wanker.”

“Wankers usually are,” Draco says, but the sneer has left his face, replaced with an uncertain look. “You hardly know me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You don’t understand,” Draco says.

Charlie’s brow furrows. “What? I don’t understand what?”

Draco shakes his head. “I have to do this.”

Charlie can see the boundary fast approaching, they are going to be caught in the web of magic. The force is supposed to be enough to repel a dragon, Merlin knows it’s not meant for wizards to fly into. He grabs Draco around the waist, pulling him back against his chest.

“Hold on,” Charlie says and yanks him to the side, freefalling. He has his wand in hand and casts cushioning and Levicorpus. Draco is yelling something and several burst of magic issue from the end of his wand. Charlie looks up to see the Silver Wing pass harmlessly through the wards.

_Shit_.

They land easily, bouncing against the cushioning charm before being deposited on the ground. Charlie puts his wand away, dusting himself off.

Draco curls over, pulling his legs up to his chest, looking for all the world like a little boy.

“Draco?” Charlie kneels next to him, putting a hand on his arm.

Draco shakes him off.

Charlie looks up to the sky and sees Loretta getting close. “We’ve got company,” he says.

Draco doesn’t even look up.

Charlie makes a quick decision. He puts his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “We were trying to stop the Silver Wing, the break in the boundary magic must have been there before, I pulled you off to save us both from being fried. Alright?”

Draco does look at him then. His goggles are fogged up and he pulls them off over his head. “What?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost my fucking mind, but there’s a reason you wanted to get that Silver Wing out of here. I don’t know what it is, but you owe me an explanation and then I can decide if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life or not. Just go along with me?”

Draco nods, wordlessly, and Charlie gives him a quick, rough kiss.

Loretta lands red-faced and furious. “He got out!” she says. “How the hell did that happen?”

“There was no stopping him, we tried, but in the end I had to drag Malfoy off. We had no idea there was a break in the wards.”

Loretta looks at them sceptically, her eyes lingering for a long time on Draco. “I’m not sure I believe you. I’m going to need your wands for examination.”

Charlie tries to keep his expression even, but he’s in turmoil. He looks around him as if searching for something. “I dunno about Malfoy, but I lost my wand when we landed.” He nudges Draco who is staring into space, lost in whatever he is thinking about.

Draco startles, looking up at Charlie. “What?” he snaps.

“Your wand? I think I lost mine.”

Draco blinks and holds up his hands looking at the open palms. “I don’t know.”

“I think he’s in shock,” Charlie says, not knowing if it’s a good act on Draco’s part of if he really is that dazed. “It was a long way to fall.”

Loretta huffs impatiently. “So you’ve both lost your wands. Right, you two can look for your wands. I can’t afford anyone else, with a bloody dragon on the loose. I expect you to report to my office with your wands or whatever is left of them by the end of the day.” She flicks another look at Draco and draws Charlie aside. “I hope you aren’t letting your personal feeling cloud your judgement, or Morgana knows I won’t be responsible for what I’m going to do to you both.”

Charlie feels a dizzying wave of nausea wash over him. His gut has always been good, but then he’s always sworn he’d never fall for anyone, he’d never be the doormat his dad is. Is it even love or just infatuation with Draco? He knows he would never let anyone else get away with releasing a dragon, particularly one so rare as to be thought extinct.

Loretta sends off her Patronus to order a search party and for repairs to be made to the magical barrier, then gives them one last dirty look as she mounts her broom and starts the long flight back.

Charlie sits down next to Draco, feeling washed out. He’s sure he must be as pale as Draco is at this moment. “I could lose my job,” he says, unable to quite believe what he’s doing. “Fuck, I could end up in prison for helping you steal a fucking dragon.”

Draco’s hand on his wrist jerks him out of his reverie.

“I had to get him out of here, he doesn’t belong.” Draco turns his head, the movement almost mechanical in its stiffness. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I’ll take whatever is coming to me, I never expected any different, but… why are you trying to help me?”

Charlie is too strung out to be angry; too weary. “Because I’ve lost my mind,” he says, lying back and looking up at the silver-grey sky, until it makes him dizzy and he feels like he’s falling off the world into it.

“Did you mean it?” Draco asks. “What you said before?”

Charlie knows what he means and he nods minutely. “Yeah. I thought I was going to lose you, one way or another. It just slipped out.” He can feel Draco watching him, and he resists the urge to qualify himself or take it back.

“Why?” Draco asks, finally.

Charlie looks at Draco. “Fuck knows,” he says, but his tone is soft. “I don’t know, I just know that I’ll do crazy things to keep you safe. I’ve never felt like someone else’s wellbeing is directly linked to my own before.”

Draco is picking at tufts of grass, the wind ruffling his hair. He looks so uncertain, so vulnerable, and Charlie’s fingers itch to reach out to him.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” Draco says, his voice faltering.

“I know. I’m guessing you have a very good reason for that,” Charlie says.

“The Silver Wing… I couldn’t tell you. I was sworn to secrecy but he was never supposed to get hurt. He’s… he’s my father.”

Charlie’s insides turn over. “What?!”

“I’ll tell you everything, just let me…” Draco is rubbing his left arm through his jacket, as though it is irritating him. “He’s an animagus. Of course, he wasn’t happy when he realised his form. An extinct dragon is not exactly able to pass unnoticed and so he very rarely used it, despite the pains he had gone through to attain it. He never envisaged that it might give him his freedom.”

Charlie props himself up on his elbow, resting his hand on Draco’s leg. “Draco, I don’t think you should tell me any more.”

“No, let me, after everything you’ve done, you deserve to know.” Draco puts his gloved hand over Charlie’s, stroking it. “There is a fugitive in this, but it’s not my father. Your Ridgeback, the one you pointed out to me on the first day, he’s a Death Eater. I’ve been advising the Ministry… Potter, I told Potter.”

Charlie doesn’t understand, he takes off Draco’s gloves needing to feel him instead of the cold, smooth dragon-hide. He squeezes Draco’s fingers gently and Draco gives him a sad smile.

“I just wanted to be able to hold my head up again.” He blushes, looking away. “It sounds foolish after everything that we did in the war, everything _I_ did, I don’t expect anything, that’s not why I’m doing it. I think it might be why my father is doing it, but we don’t discuss such things. He _is_ a fool.”

Charlie can see the pain in Draco’s eyes and he sits up wanting to do something to make it better. He wants to pull Draco into his arms, but something about his posture tells him that would be the wrong thing to do right now, so he settles for squeezing Draco’s hand again and feeling useless.

“My father was apoplectic about a Death Eater he knew of who had managed to go into hiding, rather than face his fate. I don’t know how he found out, but nothing ever stays secret for long. I talked him into going to Potter. It was a calculated risk. My father was already in Azkaban under suicide watch.” Here Draco drops his gaze, his voice shaking. “I don’t believe he would have… I think it was more an excuse to watch him, constantly.” His voice gets stronger as he carries on. “It took some convincing before they believed it wasn’t an elaborate escape plan. So I told them about his ability to transfigure himself into a Silver Wing. Of course that meant that he couldn’t just come onto the reserve, you’d all want to study him and something would eventually give him away. The dragons know he’s not one of them, that’s why your Ridgeback hasn’t been accepted into a pack.”

Charlie’s heart is pounding, his head spinning, he’s not really taking it in. “And your father was supposed to bring him in… how?” he asks, faintly.

“They staged an escape and my father flew here, to the cave that they had secured, with me as the Secret Keeper. I was to let father on to the reserve when I could, without rousing suspicion, and father was to talk Ignavus into running to the safe cave.”  
“He didn’t go for it,” Charlie says, thinking of the injuries that the Silver Wing had sustained.

“He’s a coward,” Draco says, sneering. “My father is not as strong as he once was, he didn’t have a chance against a young, settled, well fed Ridgeback.”

“So what now?” Charlie asks.

“Ignavus is not likely to run unless he realises he’s been given away.”

It’s stupid to feel stung that Draco couldn’t confide in him after all he’s said, and Charlie tries to swallow his pride. “Let me help you,” he says.

Draco laughs, startled. “I thought you’d be furious.”

“Why?” Charlie asks, baffled. “I can see the reasoning, it’s imperfect. You should have had some help on the inside, with someone who knew the dragons, but I blame the Ministry for that. It’s not like I’m a stranger to the war effort.”

“It was my preference not to involve anyone else.”

“Yeah, because you thought it would compromise the situation, things change, now you’ve told me and I can help. I want to help.”

Draco looks away, red faced. “What happened between us wasn’t-”

Charlie tugs Draco towards him, cutting off his words with a kiss. “I know,” he says, wrapping Draco in his arms.

“Don’t,” Draco says, pushing against Charlie’s arms. “You need to know everything. There’s something even the Ministry doesn’t know.” He looks pained. “I’m an animagus too. A Sea-Wyvern.”

Charlie feels like his head is about to explode. “Please tell me you’re not joking,” he says.

“No joke,” Draco says, with a cautious smile. “Not much use to me, but there we are.”

“Oh fuck, so that’s why you won’t let me… dragons mate for life, yes?”

Draco nods.

“So that’s why you’ve never. Fuck… _fuck_.” Everything clicks into place and Charlie feels like the world has spun off its axis. He’s hard. Vaguely aware that this might not be the most appropriate reaction, or maybe it is.

“I’ve never been so tempted,” Draco says, and Charlie knows then it is right. It’s going to be alright.

Charlie kisses Draco as if his life depends on it. “I want you. I want all of you. Forever. For life… I never thought I’d say that. I mean, if you want me, that is.”

Draco laughs, relief mingling with disbelief and sounding slightly hysterical. Charlie strokes his back and kisses him again, and this time the kiss quickly becomes heated, almost frantic as they both realise the significance. Draco straddles Charlie’s lap and grinds against him, Charlie pushes his hands up under Draco’s jacket and shirt and strokes his back, before squeezing Draco’s arse, pulling him as close as he can.

“I want you,” he says. “Fuck, Draco, I want you so much, let me…”

Draco moans. “Yes,” he says.

Charlie can feel his heart thudding from his temples to his toes. “Not here, we can’t, there’s going to be a team out to fix the barrier and we need to get back.” He tries to gather his wits as Draco stands, straightening his clothes, but not managing to get rid of that rumpled look.

“Right, let’s see if I can get our broomsticks from here,” Charlie says. He casts Accio and his broomstick whizzes into his hand. Draco’s doesn’t arrive. “Never mind, we’ll find it on the way back,” he says.

“Give me your wand,” Charlie says.

Draco does so without hesitation. Charlie turns it over in his hands. “This isn’t one of Ollivander’s.”

“No, I lost that one,” Draco says. “I made this one.”

Charlie looks up at him in surprise. “Really? I mean it’s rough, but,” he weighs it in his palm and centres his magic in it. “It’s not bad.”

“Our wands were destroyed, but they couldn’t stop us from learning the basics of wandcraft and making our own.” Charlie knows he is playing it down, but he just nods.

“Then you can make another,” Charlie says, not even waiting for Draco’s nod before he kicks off on his broom, flying up to a section of the barrier that isn’t broken. He can feel the force of it from twenty feet away. He hurls the wand at the barrier with all his might, it explodes in a shower of sparks, igniting briefly. He picks it up to see it’s ruined beyond repair, the wood has split open and he can see the dragonsheart string at the core.

He picks up Draco and a thrill goes through him having Draco pressed close behind him, arms around his waist.

They find Draco’s broomstick but Charlie doesn’t stop, sending a spell for it to follow them.

*

The village is deserted when they get back: the night shift asleep, unaware of what’s happened, everyone else out on a wild dragon hunt.

Charlie pulls Draco through the narrow lane towards their hut. He has Draco in his arms before the door has shut behind them, undressing Draco as he pulls him over to the bed.

“Wait, Charlie, I want you to take me. I mean… I need you to. Do you know what I mean?”

Charlie pulls back, dazed and so hard he thinks he might burst the seams of his breeches any moment. “I think so,” he says. He licks his lips nervously, thinking of that scene in the office, the memory of seeing Draco bound and fierce and aroused, making him hot. “ Do you want me to take full control? To bind you and take you and fuck you and you can’t stop me, can’t fight it?” He sees Draco’s nod and his excitement and tension ride higher. “Alright, but you have to tell me if I do it wrong.”

“You won’t,” Draco says and then he touches Charlie’s face in a gesture of tenderness.

“In that case,” Charlie says, with an edge to his voice, “come here.”

He transfigures the hard chair into a stool, forcing Draco down onto the seat with two heavy hands on his shoulders. Draco puts his hands behind his back without being asked and Charlie feels his heartbeat quicken. He remembers the longing to see Draco’s wrists bound with something other than the ugly magical cuffs and takes one of his ties from his trunk, transfiguring it into a long strip of black silk.

He binds Draco’s wrists firmly, then uses the rest of the length to wrap around his forearms, tying them off at each elbow. Charlie takes a moment to admire the overall effect, the beauty of Draco’s pale skin contrasted with the strips of black silk, the long line of his back, ramrod straight, and the way Draco’s shoulders are pulled back, his chest pushed forward.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, feeling light-headed already.

He comes round in front of Draco and his mouth goes dry and the look on Draco’s face. It’s almost feral. His eyes are burning with a dark fire that intensifies as Charlie takes off his own shirt.

Draco’s gaze moves down to Charlie’s muscled torso, and when he looks up again his eyes are slightly glazed, darker than before. It sends Charlie’s heart racing to see the effect he has on Draco.

Charlie runs his hand over the front of his breeches, adjusting his cock, but Draco’s eyes never leave his.

“Let’s play again, shall we? Right to the end this time.” Charlie says, and as an after thought he reaches for his discarded handler’s gloves, the most supple dragon hide that fits like a second skin, made for work, not fashion. It has the desired effect of darkening Draco’s eyes with excitement.

Charlie walks around Draco again, sliding a gloved hand across the breadth of his shoulders.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Charlie says, keeping his voice low but with an edge of menace. Draco shivers and rolls back his shoulders. Charlie can tell that he’s turned on, without needing to look at the erection straining against his breeches.

Charlie leans over the back of him, stroking his hands down Draco’s chest, stopping at his nipples, which he pinches hard between his fingertips. Draco’s breath catches for a second, but then he breathes through it. Charlie twists and Draco makes a sound in the base of his throat.

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, a whisper in Draco’s ear. “I’m going to take what I want from you.”

Draco squirms, pulling his head away from Charlie’s hot breaths against his ear.

Charlie comes round in front of Draco. “You won’t be needing those,” he says, removing Draco’s trousers, boots and socks with a flick of his wand, leaving him sitting in nothing but his underwear. Plain black cotton briefs, stretched across his erect cock. Draco makes a sound that could be anywhere from anxious to impatient.

Charlie rubs his gloved hand roughly over Draco’s cock, prompting another sound from Draco. Charlie strokes his fingertip along the waistband of Draco’s underwear, head cocked to one side for a good few second, enjoying the way Draco’s stomach quivers. “You know what I think, little dragon? I think that you want this just as much as I want it. I think I can make you roar for me.”

Charlie reaches down and rips Draco’s underwear off him, tearing the seams and discarding them, and Draco’s cock freed from its confines is mouthwatering, long and flushed a deep rose, moisture pearling at the tip already.

“Fuck,” Charlie says, breathing hard. “Look at you,” he says. “Look how hard you are for me already. I bet you could come from the heat of my breath against your cock, couldn’t you?” He starts leaning, but then his lips curve up in a wicked smile. “But where would be the fun in that?”

Charlie walks behind Draco, taking his box of toys out and putting them at the end of the bed, throwing in the tube of lubricant from under his pillow. He can see Draco in his peripheral vision, twisting his head to the side, trying to see what Charlie is doing.

“Turn your head back,” Charlie growls. When Draco doesn’t, he strides over and slides his fingers through the silky soft strands of Draco’s hair, tightens his fingers in it and jerks his head round to face front again. “You will keep your eyes face forward if you know what’s good for you,” he says, gripping Draco’s chin with his free hand and dragging it up, forcing Draco to look at him. “Understand?”

The look in Draco’s eyes is almost overwhelming, he looks so utterly desperate that Charlie feels his nerve waver for a fraction of a second. But he _feels_ exactly the way that Draco does.

Charlie gives another sharp tug on Draco’s hair and lets him go. He doesn’t know if he prefers Draco’s chin up in defiance or down with fire burning in his eyes. Both make him _want_ almost unbearably.

“That’s better,” he says, and he leans down, pressing his lips against Draco’s neck, a trail of open mouthed, heated kisses along the column of Draco’s throat to his jaw, sucking hard at the juncture, his heart beating hard and fast as Draco’s breathing speeds up and his body tenses. “Fuck, I want you,” he murmurs, low, in Draco’s ear. “I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down without thinking of me.”

Draco releases a long, shuddering breath and Charlie grins and lifts Draco up under his armpits, feeling the dampness he is suddenly overcome with the urge to bury his face in there and lick them. Instead he throws Draco face down on the bed.

Draco turns his head to the side.

“On your knees, my little dragon,” Charlie says. Draco grinds his hips down against the covers, his face going tight and tense and Charlie realises how close he must be already.

“Hey,” Charlie hauled him up roughly, his hands on Draco’s waist rough enough to leave bruises. “I told you I wanted you on your knees.”

Draco glares at him, his cheek squashed against the covers, breathing hard and fast, unable to support himself with his hands bound behind him.

Charlie smooths a hand down Draco’s back, feeling every nobble of his spine, up over his bound wrists and down to his arse, which flexes. Charlie rubs his hands roughly across Draco’s arse-cheeks, squeezing them and kneading them, earning a whimper from Draco.

“You’ve kept this treasure from me for too long, my little dragon, I think I’m going to take it from you now.”

Draco moans and writhes, wiggling his arse in the air. Charlie slaps him, just enough to tingle and Draco arches, pulling his backside away. Charlie can see, though, he can see the dark frantic look on Draco’s face.

Charlie strips off his right glove and sucks two fingers into his mouth for Draco’s benefit. He moves behind Draco, out of his line of sight, silently coating them in lubricant. He has to take a deep breath to steady himself, his fingers are shaking and his stomach feels as though it is going to churn itself into butter.

Charlie rests a hand gently against Draco’s lower back. “Look at me,” he says, waiting until Draco turns his head to face him. “I’m going to have you,” he says. He does a quick, though gentle, cleansing spell and he strokes the tip of his finger across Draco’s hole, which clenches tight at the touch.

Charlie reaches between Draco’s legs, wrapping his gloved hand around Draco’s cock, stroking it from base to tip. Draco turns his face against the bedclothes and moans long and loud, distracted enough that Charlie can slip his fingertip in, stroking the rim of his arsehole until Draco can’t help but push back, desperate for more.

“Look at that, your greedy arsehole has just taken a whole thick finger in. Tell me now you don’t want it,” Charlie says, smirking.

Draco tries to pull his arse out of the way again, but Charlie slaps him, harder this time. “Be still, my little dragon,” he says. “Be still or this will hurt. Two now.”

Draco’s thighs are trembling, his face is red and sweaty, his hair sticking to his temples and in strands across his forehead. He looks fucking beautiful. Beautiful and so desperate.

Charlie is gentle as he can be, sliding in the second finger, he can feel the tension in Draco’s body and he strokes his back as he eases in. It’s not until he finds his destination that Draco unravels like a loose thread being pulled. He glides his fingers in a tender circle and Draco’s thighs quiver and he arches his back and spreads his legs wider, making the most desperate, needy sounds that go straight to Charlie’s cock.

It is so beautiful, Charlie’s mouth goes dry at the sight. He touches Draco’s bollocks with his gloved hand, feeling it when Draco is ripe, ready to burst. He hears it in Draco’s urgent breaths and cruelly withdraws.

Draco buries his face against the covers.

Charlie caresses the nape of his neck, leaning in close enough to whisper. “Do you want it yet?”

Draco squeezes his eyes shut. “No,” he says, forcing the word out.

Charlie slides his fingers inside Draco again and this time Draco reaches the edge more quickly, a thin, glistening, trail of pre-come stretched between the tip of his cock and the covers. He is writhing, trying to force Charlie to fuck him harder and faster with his fingers, his pained sounding moans muffled against the covers, his hands twisting desperately against their restraints.

“Now?” Charlie asks, withdrawing again, his voice rougher, affected by the sight of Draco so desperate. The proud, detached man is nowhere to be seen. When Charlie looks at him he can see tears in Draco’s eyes. He wipes his hand on his own breeches and strokes Draco’s hair.

“Alright,” he says. “Alright, shhh. It’s alright.”

Draco closes his eyes but his body relaxes for a moment.

Charlie gives him a few minutes, stroking his hair so tenderly, his heart clenching painfully.

“I don’t have to-” he starts, but Draco opens his eyes and stops him with a look.

“Don’t,” Draco says.

“I want you,” Charlie says, with a feeling of near devastation.

Draco’s lips quirk up at the sides. “Then take me,” he says.

Draco’s body is relaxed now, he looks at ease despite the position he’s in. Charlie feels on the edge of a precipice.

It takes effort for Charlie to bring himself back into line, lifting his shoulders and straightening his back, centring himself. He squeezes out some more lube and strokes it along the length of his cock, feeling just how ready he is for this. But not just physically. Emotionally - he always thought a commitment this huge would scare the life out of him, and yet it feels right. It feels like coming home at long last.

He kneels on the bed behind Draco, bracing a hand on the mattress as he slides the head of his cock along Draco’s crack, across his hole, which flutters but doesn’t clench the way it always has before, and then Draco breathes out and Charlie can see he’s relaxing himself ready for Charlie.

“Oh fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says. He lets out his own shaky breath and presses the head of his cock against Draco’s hole, holding his hip still. Draco pushes back to meet him and Charlie slides in far more easily than he would have expected.

Draco is trembling and Charlie rubs his hip. “Alright, little dragon?” he asks.

“Fuck me,” Draco says, sounding half desperate, half furious, “or I’m going to kill you when I get out of this.” He tugs at the ribbon binding his arms.

Charlie laughs, pulling Draco up, manoeuvring them both until he’s sitting with Draco on his lap, facing away from him. “You do it,” he says, putting his hands on Draco’s hips, holding him steady.

Draco leans back, stroking his fingertips against Charlie’s abdomen, twisting his head for a kiss. And then he starts moving and Charlie’s world contracts to the feel of Draco’s arse clenching around his cock as he takes Draco in his arms, helping him move, his hips thrusting up to meet Draco’s downward slide. When he’s close he wraps a hand around Draco’s cock and strokes him to completion, and then he fucks him hard and fast, until he comes buried to the balls in Draco’s beautiful arse.

*

It’s the early hours of the morning when Charlie and Draco return to the reserve. Loretta dismissed them hours ago after listening to their story about how they had tried to get the Silver Wing to stop and failed. Charlie’s fairly sure she doesn’t believe them, but Loretta knows Charlie well enough by now and trusts him. He wishes he could tell her, bring her in, but he wants to give Draco this victory for himself.

The Silver Wing has vanished without a trace, despite an extensive search of the area it was originally found in.

They have been put on the nightshift. It’s supposed to be a punishment, but it works in their favour.

After doing their rounds they go to the medi-hut and Charlie chats to Nestor, who’s on duty, whilst Draco asks to use the bathroom.

Half an hour later they are flying towards the forest where the Ridgeback has been spending most of its time. Charlie’s heart is racing as they slow down. The moon is nothing but a sliver and inside the forest they have to use a night-vision charm.

Draco tracks the dragon and Charlie hangs back, as they had discussed, watching for any unwanted guests. The forest is quiet, the presence of the Ridgeback having scattered the forest-dwelling creatures.

Finally they come upon it and Draco makes that low sound in his throat. It sends a shiver down Charlie’s spine and he has an abstract thought about asking Draco to use that the next time they fuck.

The Ridgeback rounds on them and they have a split second before it launches itself at Draco who kicks off, shooting up and up with the Ridgeback right behind him and Charlie bringing up the rear.

They burst out of the cover of the trees right into the trap that Draco has set. The Welsh and her pack surround the Ridgeback, the alpha flying in to attack and Draco flies out of the way. Charlie flies over, his heart in his mouth. He does a quick once over to make sure that Draco is alright and Draco does the same to him, which makes him smile.

The Ridgeback is no match for the Green and he’s soon subdued, collared by the Green’s jaws around his neck, biting down hard.

Draco is up again, he flies over, roaring his displeasure.

The Welsh releases the Ridgeback, but doesn’t go far.

Draco takes the lead and the Ridgeback is surrounded by the other dragons. Charlie brings up the rear, wand trained on the Ridgeback, his eyes darting to Draco’s determined countenance often. His heart filling with pride.

They bring the Ridgeback in, Nestor coming out of the medi-hut and watching them approach, open-mouthed.

Charlie flies down, yelling, “help me set up a medi-pen.”

“What’s going on?” Nestor asks.

“Tell you later,” Charlie says and Nestor nods and hurries to help him.

The moment that the other dragons back off, none of them wanting to get too close to the medi-pens is the most nerve wracking. Draco keeps circling until they finally have the Ridgeback secure.

“Get Loretta down here,” Charlie says. “She needs to see this.”

Nestor runs into the medi-hut to call and twenty minutes later the dragons have departed and Loretta has arrived.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with this one?” she asks.

Charlie puts a reassuring hand on Draco’s arm - it’s easy now to see his reluctance as a sign of anxiety rather than superiority.

Draco clears his throat. “This Ridgeback is a wanted Death Eater. His name is Ignavus Talon.”

Loretta’s expression goes from incredulous to horrified. “How did you happen to come by this information.”

“I was sent here by the Ministry to assist in his capture.”

“Why wasn’t I notified about this?”

Draco is visibly trembling and Charlie wants to hold him. He wants to jump in and save him from this, but this is Draco’s moment. He needs this. “I… I had to keep it from everyone, even Charlie.”

Loretta purses her lips. “Right, and what about the Silver Wing, where does that come into this?”

Draco swallows convulsively. “He’s mine, but he doesn’t belong here.” And then, anticipating her next question he says. “The Ministry knows about him.”

Loretta clucks her tongue in what Charlie knows is an expression of disappointment over a missed opportunity.

“Fine,” she says, eventually. “I want all of your statements on my desk tomorrow morning. In the meantime I’m going to contact the Ministry to back up the story and get whoever is supposed to deal with this out here.”

Charlie knows someone is going to get an earful about not including her in the loop.

“I’m going to send a relief team out here, you lot get back to the village and get some sleep,” she barks out the orders and then she’s gone.

Charlie fills Nestor in on what happened with the dragons, whilst Draco sneaks back in to replace the tranquiliser dart that was his safety backup.

Finally it’s just the two of them again and finally Charlie can slide his arms around Draco and pull him close, content just to revel in the feel of him, ignoring his arousal for the moment.

“You alright?” he asks, tucking Draco’s hair behind his ear and kissing that spot just below the ear that makes him shiver.

“I am better than alright,” Draco says.

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll be fine. He won’t run, he can’t… Mother.”

Charlie nods, understanding. It makes him realise how cut off he’s become from his own family. It’ll soon be summer and maybe this year he’ll take a week or two, though the thought of introducing his entire family to his soul mate is… daunting, to say the least.

“Come on, the relief team should be here in a minute and I don’t know about you but I fancy a bathe, then I want to fuck you again and this time I want you to speak to me like one of your dragons.”

“Idiot,” Draco laughs, blushing.

“I mean it,” Charlie says, laughing with him. “I was so turned on, I thought I was going to come in my breeches, fifty feet in the air.”

And with that he attempts to kiss Draco senseless until the relief team arrive.

~The End~

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or on the original fest post at [Livejournal](http://hprarefest.livejournal.com/54377.html) if you wish


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